BORN   OF   THE    CRUCIBLE 


Born  of  the  Crucible 


THE    CORNHILL    COMPANY 

BOSTON 


Copyright,  1919,  by 

THE  CORNHILL  COMPANY 

All  Rights  Reserved 


TO  MY  WIFE 


CONTENTS 
Chapter 

I  WHERE  THE  SKY  BEGINS    . 

II  THE  NEW  BAGDAD    . 

III  MEN  OF  DREAMS 

IV  INTO  THE  DEPTHS    . 
V  SHOES  AND  SOCIALISM 

VI  CRESCENDOES    . 

VII  DANGER  SIGNS 

VIII  THE  GOPHER  HOLE  . 

IX  WITHIN  THE  GATES  . 

X  STORM  CLOUDS 

XI  THE  GIRL  OF  THE  TRAIN    . 

XII  DOLDRUMS 

XIII  THE  TEMPEST 

XIV  WILLIAMS        . 

XV  THE  MOUNTAINS  SUMMON 

XVI  THE  SLIP  ON  THE  DIKE    . 

XVII  THE  RETURN 

XVIII  THE  REAL  THARNY 

XIX  PADDY  SKIFF 

XX  THE  SCHEMERS 

XXI  THE  UNKINDEST  CUT 

XXII  CLEARING  THE  SLATE 

XXIII  IN  SPRINGTIME 

XXIV  THE  M.  N. 

XXV  SACRED  PRECINCTS    . 

XXVI  THARNEY  GOES  FISHING    . 

XXVII  THE  ARROW     . 

XXVIII  THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  GLEN    . 

XXIX  DREAMS  AND  THE  GIRL     . 

XXX  CRUNCH  PAYS 

XXXI  MARY 


Page 
1 
6 

13 

19 

28 

38 

53 

64 

79 

84 

95 

114 

118 

130 

140 

147 

157 

170 

178 

189 

200 

205 

220 

228 

246 

258 

266 

283 

293 

303 

312 


BORN   OF   THE    CRUCIBLE 


CHAPTER  I 
WHERE  THE  SKY  BEGINS 

While  still  in  his  third  year  at  Stanford  University, 
Dan  Bradshaw,  quite  inadvertently,  had  stumbled  upon 
a  piece  of  rather  startling  information — facts  that  were 
not  only  startling,  but  disconcerting  and  disturbing. 

Always  had  he  lived  with  his  Aunt  Ruth  and  his 
Uncle  Sim  in  a  beautiful  little  California  village.  They 
had  brought  him  up  from  childhood;  they  had  clothed 
him  and  taken  care  of  him ;  when  he  had  been  old  enough, 
they  had  sent  him  to  school;  and  later,  by  the  utmost 
economy,  they  had  saved  enough  to  send  him  to  college. 

And  then  suddenly,  Dan  had  learned  that  these  good 
people  were  not  related  to  him  at  all.  Merely,  out  of  the 
kindness  of  their  hearts,  they  had  taken  him  in,  when  he 
had  been  left  an  orphan.  Dan's  mother  had  died  not  long 
after  she  had  heard  the  hearty  wail  of  her  first-born.  His 
father  had  met  with  an  unfortunate  accident,  but  a  few 
weeks  before. 

Of  course,  Dan  had  reasoned,  as  soon  as  he  had 
learned  the  true  status  of  his  'uncle'  and  'aunt',  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  continue  taking  more  from  them. 
True,  he  could  never  begin  to  repay  them  in  money  for 
all  their  great  care  and  wonderful  kindness,  but  at  least 
he  could  cease  being  a  burden.  And  then,  neither  of  his 
foster-parents  was  young  any  more;  they  were  reaching 
the  twilight  of  their  lives,  and  the  maintaining  of  a  gen- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


eral  country  store  would  soon  become  too  arduous  a  task 
for  'Uncle'  Sim. 

Abruptly  Dan  had  terminated  his  college  career.  Im- 
mediately he  would  fare  forth  in  the  quest  of  some  means 
whereby  he  could  begin  to  repay  his  benefactors'  gener- 
osity. 

Came  then  for  Dan  Bradshaw  the  call  of  the  east. 
There  he  had  hoped  to  come  upon  the  road  to  fame  and 
fortune,  but  such  a  road  is  as  difficult  to  locate  as  it  is  to 
traverse,  and  Dan  had  not  found  things  easy.  And  while 
Ms  keen  enthusiasm  and  his  love  of  adventure  had  not 
been  quelled,  Dan  had  discovered  many  sharp  corners  in 
those  first  few  years  against  which  to  bruise  his  head. 

Then  had  come  the  time  when  he  had  heard  and  lis- 
tened to  the  lure  of  the  great  West — the  same  lure  which 
had  summoned  his  grandparents  in  the  days  of  the  Cali- 
fornia gold  rush.  He  had  been  unable  to  resist  this  call 
that  promised  so  much  of  great  open  spaces,  of  vast 
mountains,  and  above  all,  of  adventure. 

And  so  it  was  that  Dan  Bradshaw  had  boarded  the 
tourist  sleeper  of  the  train  at  Chicago,  that  was  now  tak- 
ing him  to  his  new  western  destination. 

At  a  little  station  where  the  train  halted  for  a  few 
minutes,  Dan  got  out  and  walked  up  and  down  the  plat- 
form. From  the  step  of  a  Pullman  he  saw  a  girl  jump 
lightly  down.  Hatless,  but  with  a  traveling  coat  about 
her  shoulders,  the  girl  turned  laughingly  to  urge  a 
middle-aged  woman  to  descend.  But  the  latter  protested. 

"Now,  Miss  Mary,  do  be  careful,"  she  said  anxiously. 
"The  train  may  start  any  moment." 

But  laughingly  the  girl  continued  her  urging.  "Come 
on,  Jane — the  fresh  air  will  do  you  good." 

There  was  that  in  the  quality  of  the  girl's  voice  that 
attracted  Bradshaw's  attention,  and  then  it  was  that  he 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


became  cognizant  of  her  beauty.  In  the  fleeting  moment 
of  looking  directly  at  this  slender,  smiling  girl  with  a 
voice  of  infinite  charm,  he  saw  the  delicate,  pink  rose- 
petal  clarity  of  her  coloring,  the  firmness  of  her  splen- 
didly modeled  chin,  her  slightly  retrousse,  small  nose, 
and  the  wave  of  her  brown  hair  which  did  not  quite  con- 
ceal her  delicately  formed  ears. 

And  when  the  train  again  was  pounding  along  on  its 
way,  Bradshaw,  in  his  tourist  sleeper,  weaved  fanciful 
day  dreams  of  a  girl  in  a  Pullman  and  wondered  if  by 
any  kind  chance  of  Fate  she,  too,  were  going  to  Butte, 
Montana. 

It  was  in  the  night  hours  that  he  drew  near  his  jour- 
ney's end,  but  even  before  the  brakeman  stuck  his  head 
through  the  doorway  of  Dan's  sleeper  and  called,  "Be- 
utte — the  next  stop!",  Bradshaw  was  aware  that  the 
train  was  gliding  down  a  grade  chiseled  out  along  one 
side  of  the  Great  Divide,  and  was  winding  down  into  the 
world's  most  famous  mining  city. 

He  pressed  his  face  against  the  window,  to  get  his 
first  glimpse  of  the  city's  lights,  for  he  had  always  be- 
lieved in  first  impressions.  A  swaying  of  the  train  sug- 
gested a  wide  curve  being  rounded,  and  then,  suddenly 
the  night  glow  of  the  copper  metropolis  presented  itself. 
Bradshaw  drew  a  sharp  breath  and  sat  up  more  erect. 

Far  down  the  floor  of  the  valley  was  black-shrouded 
mystery  picked  out  here  and  there  with  tiny  points  of 
fire.  The  pouring  of  red-hot  slag  at  a  smelter  dump 
somewhere  off  in  the  center  of  the  valley  made  a  vivid, 
crimson  smear.  The  encircling  mountain  ranges  seem- 
ingly were  as  black  and  formless  as  the  star-flecked 
curtain  of  night,  rising  unendingly  from  behind  their 
sculptured  ridges.  But  northerly,  the  direction  in  which 
the  train  was  heading,  and  somewhat  obliquely  from  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


window  through  which  Bradshaw  gazed,  was  a  wonder 
sight, — a  constellation  of  twinkling  lights  that  lay  like  a 
widespread  field  of  glittering  diamonds  on  a  sloping 
cushion  of  blackest  velvet  that,  so  distance  made  it 
appear,  would  offer  but  smooth  resistance  to  the  hand 
that  might  be  stretched  forth  to  stroke  it.  And  where 
that  man-made  constellation  ended  and  the  stars  of 
heaven  began  their  ascent  up  and  away  throughout  the 
inverted  bowl  of  the  night,  no  eye  of  stranger  could  dis- 
cern. Then  the  train  rounded  another  curve  and  made  a 
steeper  plunge  along  the  mountain  side.  The  city's  lights 
disappeared  for  an  interval  with  surprising  sharpness. 

Bradshaw  sank  back  in  his  seat  but  intent  on  catching 
the  first  recurring  view  of  the  wonder  sight.  The  strong 
line  of  his  jaw  relaxed  and  he  smiled  slightly  to  himself. 

"I'll  put  a  handful  of  those  diamonds  out  there  in  my 
pocket",  he  thought  aloud. 

Dan  Bradshaw  was  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  twenty-six 
years,  with  his  character  as  yet  in  a  vitally  formative 
period,  and  his  enthusiasm  still  unabated.  Yet,  and  he 
winced  slightly  at  the  thought,  he  had  been  a  drifter,  too 
content  perhaps  to  seek  only  the  adventures  of  life,  and 
the  jewels  of  success  were  not  garnered  that  way.  Still, 
he  was  young ;  life  was  good ;  adventure  was  alluring  and 
he  loved  it — a  natural  heritage  from  the  Indian  fighting, 
pioneering,  rugged  grandfather  of  the  days  of  "Forty 
Nine". 

"Be-utte!  Be-utte!"  exclaimed  the  brakeman  from 
the  doorway. 

There  came  locomotive  whistle,  mellow-ringing, 
grinding  of  brakes  and  the  shrill  escape  of  steam.  Then, 
as  the  train  came  to  a  stop,  Dan  was  standing  on  the  car 
platform,  his  bulging,  telescope  satchel  under  his  arm. 

While    other    passengers    were    making   their    way 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


briskly  from  the  train  to  the  station,  Bradshaw  stopped 
for  a  moment  and  looked  directly  up  at  the  crescents  and 
bands  and  loops  of  bright  lights  that  crowned  "the  rich- 
est hill  on  earth"  like  strings  of  Brobdingnagian  jewels, 
casually  dropped  there,  and  at  the  electric  glows  that 
gemmed  the  city. 

From  where  the  Pullmans  stood  came  a  sound  of 
voices,  and  turning,  Dan  saw  a  man  conducting  two 
women,  Miss  Mary  and  her  maid,  to  a  big  automobile. 

For  an  instant  Bradshaw's  jaw  set  tensely  and  he 
fingered  the  few  silver  dollars  in  his  trousers'  pocket. 
Then  he  grinned  at  the  lights  whose  glittering  seemed 
silently  to  beckon  him. 

"Hello  there  you  Butte",  he  breathed. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  NEW  BAGDAD 

Within  the  first  week  after  reaching  Butte,  Dan  Brad- 
shaw  made  two  pertinent  discoveries: — that  while  the 
mining  city  fascinated  him,  if  he  wanted  to  remain  there 
he  would  have  to  seek  employment  in  the  mines,  because 
there  was  no  immediate  opening  for  him  in  any  other 
line  of  endeavor,  and  that  he  was  determined  not  to 
acknowledge  defeat  and  leave. 

The  big-town  features  of  the  copper  metropolis,  its 
air  of  ceaseless  prosperity,  its  heterogeneous  population, 
so  interwoven  in  communal  interest  and  yet  sharply 
defined  in  nationalities  and  factions,  claimed  Dan's  close 
attention.  He  saw  that  Butte  was  as  different  from  other 
places  he  had  visited  as  was  its  site.  Built  on  a  continu- 
ation of  a  slope  of  the  hill,  burrowed  with  many  of  the 
world's  greatest  copper  and  zinc  mines,  it  was  different 
from  any  other  municipality  he  ever  had  seen. 

To  describe  the  city  would  involve  the  tremendous 
task  of  picturing  a  physical  entity  combined  with 
startling,  albeit  very  human  emotions  of  every  shade. 
One  may  list  all  the  colors  in  a  Persian  rug  and  yet  that 
never  would  convey  the  appearance  of  the  rug.  Dan 
thought  about  all  this  and  finally  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  had  arrived  in  a  modern,  western  Bagdad, 
— a  place  of  emphatic  contrasts,  of  ever  changing,  kaleid- 
oscopic and  phantasmagoric  thought  and  action  and  pur- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


pose — a  conglomeration  of  ideals  and  ideas,  (and  lack  of 
them  too),  of  many  widely  different  countries  and 
peoples. 

A  few  yards  from  a  barren  mine  dump  stretched  a 
well-kept  terraced  lawn  bordered  with  flower  beds.  Back 
of  a  handsome  home  was  the  gallows-frame  of  a  mine  in 
actual  operation.  There  were  no  gambling  joints,  no 
dance  hall  hells,  no  shooting  out  of  lights,  no  sombrero- 
topped,  red-shirted  men  in  hairy  pants  riding  frantic 
horses  up  and  down  streets  and  howling  maledictions. 
For  verily  this  was  no  moving  picture  version  of  a  west- 
ern locality.  And  if  gamblers  wanted  to  gamble  they  did 
so  in  some  basement  with  all  the  trepidation  of  police 
raiding  and  subsequent  finings  that  the  most  effete  east- 
ern community  could  have  demanded. 

As  for  seeking  work  in  the  mines,  that  rather  at- 
tracted Dan,  for  it  suggested  a  strong  element  of 
romance,  and  romance  was  the  basis  of  Dan's  adventure- 
some inclinations. 

Every  eight  hours,  fully  seven  thousand  men  came  off 
shift  from  the  mines,  while  a  like  number  went  to  work. 
They  all  surged  back  and  forth  through  much  of  the  city 
with  free,  wide  strides,  swinging  their  lunch  buckets  as 
emblems  of  honor.  These  thousands  of  men,  who  daily 
went  down  hundreds  and  even  thousands  of  feet  into  the 
earth  to  delve  for  copper  or  zinc  ore,  were  reckless  of 
the  dangers  that  beset  them,  and  yet  as  they  became 
inured  to  peril  they  developed,  mostly  subconsciously,  a 
certain  nervous  strain  that  often  found  vent  in  a  devil- 
may-care  attitude,  in  sharp,  sudden  excitements,  in  re- 
markable generosities,  in  quick  resentments  of  real  or 
imagined  personal  affronts,  in  a  peculiar  sort  of  rough 
chivalry,  or  in  an  indifference  that  could  be  swept  aside 
at  a  moment's  notice. 


8  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

And  men  of  all  sorts  were  in  the  mines  for  various 
reasons  of  necessity.  Half  of  the  University  Club,  Dan 
found,  worked  in  some  capacity  or  other  far  under- 
ground, even  as  muckers,  as  the  shovelers  were  called. 

Bradshaw  quickly  came  to  anchor  at  Mrs.  Inez  Har- 
rity's  boarding  house  for  miners  in  Working  Lane, — a 
narrow,  uneven,  steep  and,  for  the  most  part,  shack-bor- 
dered street  which,  surviving  from  pioneer  mining  days, 
was  now  a  connecting  link  between  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  city  and  a  roadway  which  led  to  some  of  the 
big  mines  higher  up  the  hill.  It  was  a  rough  place  and 
a  man  had  to  prove  himself  ninety-nine  percent  willing- 
ness to  fight  if  he  hoped  to  remain  there  in  peace,  or  even 
in  respected  neutrality.  The  youngsters  who  played  in 
the  Lane's  gutters  were  the  final  certifiers  of  status,  for 
when  they  let  the  passerby  proceed  unnoticed,  he  could 
rest  assured  that  he  had  made  himself  one  of  the  elect. 
Otherwise  he  was  lucky  if  he  managed  to  duck  the  rocks 
and  stones  that  would  be  heaved  at  him. 

Standing  in  front  of  Carty's  saloon  at  the  head  of  the 
Lane,  Dan  could  look  down  on  the  busy  city,  and  over  it, 
across  the  broad  reach  of  valley,  dotted  here  and  there 
with  houses  still  in  the  course  of  construction,  to  the  mar- 
velous, encircling  ranges  of  the  Rockies.  And  if  the  city 
and  the  valley  and  the  mountains  were  bathed  in  sun- 
shine, Working  Lane,  straggling  at  the  foot  of  the  world's 
richest  hill,  was  in  shadow.  But  Dan  knew  that  if  all 
manner  of  men  came  into  the  Lane,  from  out  of  it  had 
come  some  mighty  people. 

As  Dan  came  down  the  mine  road  late  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  first  day  he  went  to  get  the  lay  of  the  land 
with  regard  to  mine  employment  offices  and  how  to  pro- 
ceed with  reference  to  them,  he  saw  a  big,  maroon-colored 
automobile  stalled  at  the  point  where  the  Lane  met  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  9 

road.  The  chauffeur  was  busy  with  a  front  tire.  A  young 
woman  in  gray  automobile  coat  and  cap,  had  alighted  and 
strolled  to  a  side  of  the  road  from  where  she  was  gazing 
over  the  city,  at  the  valley  and  mountains,  beyond.  As  he 
drew  nearer,  Dan  observed  two  men  whom  he  had  seen 
loitering  in  front  of  Carty's,  saunter  along  the  road  until 
they  halted  between  the  girl  and  the  machine.  They  were 
among  the  tougher  habitues  of  Working  Lane,  and  when 
he  saw  them  turn  their  heads  and  speak  to  the  girl,  Dan 
quickened  his  pace.  The  girl  ignored  them,  while  the 
chauffeur  was  busily  engaged  on  the  other  side  of  the 
car.  Then,  as  the  two  toughs  stopped  and  regarded  her 
impudently,  the  girl  turned  to  walk  to  the  automobile, 
only  to  find  she  would  have  to  step  around  them  to  reach 
it.  By  that  time  Dan  had  come  up  to  the  group. 

"These  fellows  are  annoying  you",  he  said.  Roughly 
he  shouldered  the  one  nearest  her  aside.  "I'll  see  you  to 
your  auto."  But  as  he  caught  full  view  of  her  face,  he 
started  in  surprise.  She  was  the  girl  Dan  had  seen 
laughingly  urge  her  maid  to  leave  the  Pullman  and 
enjoy  the  fresh  air. 

After  a  momentary  flash  of  surprise,  for  his  speech 
was  strongly  contrasted  with  his  rough  attire,  the  girl 
regarded  him  calmly.  For  his  part,  Dan  admired  her 
self-possession. 

The  tough,  whom  Dan  had  shoved  aside,  suddenly 
lurched  forward  with  clenched  fist.  But  Dan,  stepping 
in  close,  sent  a  perfectly  timed  uppercut  to  his  assailant's 
jaw,  and  the  fellow  went  over  backwards  in  a  heap.  The 
other  man  rushed  in  and  threw  his  arms  around  Brad- 
shaw's  neck  from  behind,  with  the  evident  intention  of 
choking  him,  but  Dan  executed  a  trick  well-known  to 
wrestlers, — one  which  in  his  collegiate  days  he  had  found 
very  effective  if  worked  quickly.  Reaching  back  over  one 


10  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

shoulder  with  both  hands,  Dan  clasped  them  behind  his 
attacker's  neck  and,  dropping  on  a  knee,  with  a  jerk  of 
his  arms  and  a  heave  of  his  shoulders  whirled  him  over 
for  a  flying  fall  that  resulted  in  a  helpless  sprawl.  The 
chauffeur  came  running  up,  with  a  wrench  gripped  in  his 
hand,  but  the  fray  was  over. 

Bradshaw  straightened  his  rumpled  clothes  as  best 
he  could. 

"These  fellows  won't  bother  you  any  more",  he  said, 
and  he  thought  he  detected  a  glint  of  smiling  amusement 
in  the  girl's  remarkably  clear  blue  eyes. 

Sweetly  she  thanked  him  in  a  low-pitched  voice  that 
had  the  same  charming  quality  that  first  had  attracted 
Dan. 

,    "I've  been  up  on  this  road  many  times",  she  added, 
"but  I  never  have  been  annoyed  before." 

Then  with  a  smile  and  ever  so  slight  a  nod,  she  went 
to  her  automobile. 

Dan  took  off  his  cap  as  the  machine  started,  and  once 
she  looked  back  at  him  and  nodded.  He  was  still  stand- 
ing there  with  his  cap  off  when  the  auto  rounded  a  corner 
and  was  lost  to  his  view.  Then  he  walked  along  to 
Carty's  with  the  two  toughs,  now  entirely  recovered,  fol- 
lowing him.  He  was  standing  at  the  bar  talking  to 
Carty,  when  they  entered.  Dan  turned  to  survey  the 
pair.  The  man  he  had  thrown  looked  rather  good- 
natured,  but  the  other  one  seemed  sullen. 

"Say,  you  two  stiffs",  Bradshaw  said  bluntly,  "if  you 
ever  pull  any  more  of  that  kind  of  rough  stuff  when  I'm 
around,  what.  I  just  did  out  there  to  you  won't  be  a 
marker  to  the  next  dose." 

The  sullen  one  scowled  at  him  and  made  as  if  to 
slink  to  a  table  at  the  rear  while  his  companion,  rubbing 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  11 

the  back  of  his  neck,  regarded  Dan  with  respectful  ad- 
miration. 

Bradshaw  beckoned  to  them. 

"Come  on  now,  you  two  ginks,  have  something  and 
behave  yourselves  better  in  future".  Dan  placed  a  coin 
on  the  bar. 

The  two  sidled  up. 

"We  didn'  mean  nawthin' ",  muttered  the  sullen  one. 
"We  never  said  nawthin'  tuh  her." 

"Yeh,  we  taut  we'd  see  if  de  loidy  wuz  in  distress", 
asserted  the  other.  Then  he  waxed  enthusiastic  in  admi- 
ration of  Bradshaw.  "Say,  dat  smash  on  de  jaw  you 
give  Wilkins  wuz  some  humdinger.  An'  de  way  you  trew 
me — say!"  He  contemplated  his  companion.  "Les  see 
yer  jaw  Wilkins — it's  got  a  lump  on  it." 

"G'wan",  snarled  Wilkins,  but  gingerly  he  touched  the 
swelling. 

Carty  pointed  at  the  better-natured  one's  clothes. 

"Better  brush  yourself  off,  Snitch,"  he  said,  "or 
ev'rybody'll  know  where  you  been."  Then  briskly: 
"What'll  you  have,  gents?" 

Wilkins  drank  a  glass  of  beer  in  silence,  but  the  drink 
Snitch  imbibed  soon  made  him  more  loquacious. 

"Say",  he  began,  addressing  Dan,  "ain't  dat  gal  got 
de  looks,  an'  she" —  He  stopped  aware  that  Bradshaw 
was  regarding  him  intently,  then  he  grinned  sheepishly. 

Dan  finished  his  beer.  "See  you  again",  he  said  to 
Carty  as  he  turned  to  go. 

"Sure,"  agreed  Carty  heartily. 

As  he  mopped  the  bar,  Carty  regarded  Bradshaw 
through  a  window  of  the  door.  "Some  man  that — some 
man !",  he  exclaimed. 

"Too  damn  fresh",  mumbled  Wilkins,  and  reaching 
over  for  Dan's  glass  he  drained  what  was  left  in  it. 


12  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Bradshaw  went  towards  his  boarding  house,  his  cap 
pushed  to  one  side  of  his  head,  and  a  smile  softening  his 
strong  features. 

"And  now  Sir  Galahad  of  Working  Lane,  you  go  to 
your  hashery",  he  mused  softly,  "and  the  fair  princess 
goes  to  her  castle.  Ambrosia  and  nectar  for  her — pork 
and  beans  for  you!" 


CHAPTER  III 

MEN  OF  DREAMS 

The  next  day  when  Bradshaw  came  down  the 
road  from  one  of  the  mine  employment  offices  he  was 
frowning,  but  when  he  reached  the  place  where  he  had 
rebuked  the  impudence  of  Wilkins  and  Snitch  a  far  better 
mood  took  possession  of  him.  And  forthwith  he  let  his 
imagination  lead  him  into  a  pleasant  reverie — that  had 
to  do  with  a  girl,  and  matters  of  great  personal  success. 
For  verily,  he  was  in  a  Bagdad,  and  in  Bagdad  much  of 
magic  might  transpire. 

Arrived  at  his  boarding  house,  he  found  John  Walton, 
a  tall,  lithe  man  with  the  sobered  look  of  one  who  had 
seen  much,  experienced  trying  vicissitudes  and  withal 
had  maintained  his  real  manhood,  and  Paddy  Skiff,  a 
grizzled  old  miner,  occupying  the  bench  that  stood 
against  the  wall  beside  the  wide  open  door. 

Paddy,  shrewd,  possessed  of  limitless  Celtic  wit  and 
with  mining  experience  dating  from  Virginia  City,  Ne- 
vada, boom  times,  turned  his  twinkling  eyes  on  Dan. 

"Sit  down  Lad",  he  invited  hospitably,  and  as  Brad- 
shaw complied  he  went  on.  "Wat  do  ye  think  of  Butte 
by  this  time?  You'll  find  it  great.  One  minut  ye  look 
at  Butte  an'  it  sure  do  look  rough, — maybe  tough — an' 
the  nex'  minut  it  looks  bee-yu-ti-ful  to  ye.  Ye  never  kin 
quite  get  it.  Ye  get  me?  An'  people  work  an'  play  an' 
do  doggone  near  everything  on  the  dynamite  plan." 


14  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Paddy  removed  his  cap  and  pushed  the  fingers  of  a 
thick,  strong  hand  through  his  grayed  locks,  still  remark- 
ably wavy  and  boyish  for  all  his  years. 

"An'  talk  of  life!  Now  ye  take  some  mucker  that'll 
come  up  out  of  the  Benton  mine,  where  I'm  tendin'  sta- 
tion, and  maybe  he'll  look  like  he's  been  dragged  through 
mist  an'  mud.  He  washes  up,  changes  his  togs, 
puts  on  a  new  tie  an'  lid  an'  goes  to  a  show  lookin*  jus' 
as  importan*  an'  tony  as  the  banker  settin'  next  to  him. 
Maybe  nex'  year  they  run  him  for  the  legislachure,  er 
anything  else  handy,  an'  he's  a  big  bug  in  the  burg.  May- 
be nex'  year  he's  tryin'  for  to  clean  up  a  tough  saloon — 
an'  bing! — he's  in  the  county  jail.  Ye  never  kin  tell. 
Butte's  diff'runt  from  other  places.  Ye  get  me?" 

"Yes  I  get  you",  said  Dan  gruffly,  "I'm  getting  on  to 
the  ways  generally,  I  guess". 

"Oh  ho! — the  lad  with  a  grouch!"  remarked  Paddy, 
winking  at  Walton  and  then  turning  to  contemplate  Dan. 
"Wat's  the  matter — ain't  ye  landed  on  a  job  yet?" 

Came  a  moment  of  silence. 

"Not  yet — just  got  a  rustling  card — a  permit  to  apply 
for  a  job",  broke  out  Bradshaw.  "I  showed  up  with  a 
bunch  of  other  candidates  at  a  brick  office  up  there  on  the 
hill,  got  to  the  window  and  was  put  through  a  course  of 
sprouts.  And  so  I  got  my  rustling  card — my  permit  to 
apply  for  a  job  in  a  mine." 

He  took  the  card  from  his  pocket  and  slapped  it 
against  the  bench.  "Would  you  call  my  getting  it  a  good 
day's  work?" 

Paddy  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  "Yer  jus*  sore, 
Lad,  fer  havin'  to  stand  in  line  fer  a  short  bit  to  get  a 
card — fer  havin'  to  give  a  statement  of  yerself,  an'  ye 
think  the  systim  all  wrong.  Lissin'  me  Lad — whativer 
employin'  systim  any  of  the  minin'  companies  in  this 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  15 

camp  uses  come  from  a  lot  of  experimintin'  they've  each 
done.  I've  met  up  with  all  sorts  of  workin'  conditions 
an'  let  me  tell  ye,  the  big  employin'  game  ain't  one  kin 
be  let  run  wild.  Sure,  some  things  could  be  bettered  an' 
they  are  bein'  bettered  right  along — not  alone  here;  all 
over  the  worl'.  But  if  ye  think  the  rustlin'  card  gettin' 
is  cause  fer  soreness,  yer  all  wrong." 

"Well,  do  I  look  like  such  a  tough  one  that  I've  got  to 
give  my  history?"  Bradshaw  demanded. 

"You've  got  to  take  into  consideration",  put  in  Walton 
in  his  quietly  emphatic  way,  "that  no  employing  company 
hereabouts  is  duty  bound  to  treat  you  as  a  guest  of  honor. 
No  mining  company  here  is  under  any  obligation  to  hire 
you,  and  it  has  a  right  to  know  the  sort  of  man  you  are 
before  you  are  taken  on — whether  it  is  by  the  card  sys- 
tem or  some  other  way.  It's  merely  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. Men  seeking  employment  in  very  many  other  lines 
of  work  have  to  furnish  far  more  strict  accounts  of  them- 
selves, and  in  cases  where  they  don't  have  to  give  any 
such  accounts,  you  may  be  sure  the  employers  know  their 
men  through  some  other  sources."  He  paused  an  instant. 
"Even  though  I  am  a  member  of  the  great  underground 
working  fraternity  of  Butte  at  this  time",  he  continued, 
"I  must  admit  that  the  companies  have  some  mighty 
tough  customers  to  deal  with  now  and  then,  and  the 
efforts  made  by  all  the  companies  to  get  the  right  sort  of 
men  is  not  alone  to  protect  themselves,  but  to  protect 
the  employes  too." 

But  Bradshaw  at  the  moment  gave  heed  only  to  the 
vein  of  stubbornness  traversing  the  granite  of  his  make- 
up. "The  system  may  have  its  good  points",  he  conceded, 
"but",  and  he  thrust  out  his  jaw,  "I  guess  just  at  this 
minute  I'd  like  to  go  haying.  May  feel  differently  about 


16  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

the  whole  proposition  later  on.     I  don't  know."     He 
frowned  more  deeply,  looking  straight  ahead. 

"Sure",  remarked  Paddy  as  if  to  himself,  "a  honest 
man  what  means  to  be  on  the  square,  whativer  his  past 
has  contained  as  to  mixin'  up  with  bad  gangs,  ain't  hesi- 
tatin'  to  tell  of  himself." 

"If  you  pass  muster  at  the  Norton,  or  the  Williston, 
or  the  Jameson  properties,  you  don't  need  a  rustling  card 
— if  you  pass  muster",  Walton  informed  Dan. 

"Then  I'll  say  that  the  Norton  properties  are  unani- 
mously chosen  to  receive  my  application",  declared  Brad- 
shaw,  and  he  tore  up  the  card.  "Wait  a  minute  for  me 
Walton,  while  I  wash  up  and  I'll  go  down  town  with 
you" ;  he  arose  and  hastened  into  the  boarding  house. 

Paddy  Skiff  shook  his  head.  "The  lad's  a  cliver  one 
all  right,  an'  he'll  be  heard  from — I  feel  it.  But  he's  a 
hot-head  an'  that's  mostly  'cause  he's  young  yet",  and 
Paddy  sighed.  "  'Tis  me  experiunce  that  a  cliver  hot- 
head is  always  more  dangerous  than  a  ignur-runt  hot- 
head." 

*         *        *         *         * 

It  was  the  hour  after  the  changing  of  shifts  and  be- 
fore the  closing  of  business  houses.  Heavily  laden  street 
cars  buzzed  along,  their  brazen  bells  adding  to  the  clamor 
that  seemed  greatest  at  the  corner  near  which  Bradshaw 
and  Walton  stood  until  the  traffic  officer  looked  in  their 
direction.  Then  they  strolled  along  the  business  ave- 
nues until  finally  they  took  their  stand  on  a  step  of  the 
public  library. 

Bradshaw  was  making  some  animated  comment  to 
Walton  when  suddenly  he  paused.  He  saw  a  big, 
maroon-colored  automobile  stop  at  the  curb  across  the 
way,  and  the  girl  of  the  train  step  into  it.  In  another 
moment  the  machine  was  gliding  away  and  Bradshaw 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  17 

watched  it  until  it  was  lost  among  the  press  of  other 
vehicles. 

Walton,  glancing  keenly  at  the  younger  man,  followed 
the  latter's  intent  gaze. 

"A  friend  of  yours?"  asked  Walton  with  a  bantering 
note  in  his  tone. 

"Not  yet",  Bradshaw  replied,  the  suggestion  of  a 
smile  on  his  lips. 

"And  that  implies?"  questioned  Walton. 

Bradshaw  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Nothing  spe- 
cific", he  answered.  "Many  things  happen  in  Butte,  I 
understand",  and  he  smiled  more  broadly. 

As  they  continued  their  stroll,  the  city  was  breaking 
out  into  its  thousands  of  electric  lights,  the  long  rows  of 
street  arcs  atop  their  ornamental  iron  posts  shining 
with  a  white  brilliancy — Butte's  night  life  was  getting 
under  way. 

At  a  corner  they  came  across  a  large  group  of  men 
clustered  about  a  speaker  on  an  improvised  platform  of 
boxes.  They  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd  which, 
excepting  for  the  few  immediately  gathered  before  the 
speaker,  gave  no  evidence  of  sanctioning  the  utterances 
of  the  soap-box  orator,  a  slender  man  somewhat  above 
medium  height,  with  esthetic  cast  of  face,  drooping, 
graying  mustache  and  dreamy  eyes  that  had  a  way  of 
glowing  now  and  then,  and  whose  well-modulated  voice 
had  a  peculiar  carrying  power.  Most  of  those  in  his 
audience  were  representative  of  Butte's  miners,  while  a 
few  business  men  and  others  loitered  there  through  much 
the  same  curiosity  that  actuated  Bradshaw  and  Walton. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Dan  of  Walton. 

"Cronel  is  his  name",  replied  Walton.  "He's  a  social- 
ist and  the  stuff  he  hands  out  usually  is  way  over  the 
heads  of  most  of  those  who  stand  around  listening  to 


18  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

him.  It's  the  idealistic,  impractical  argument  of  the 
socialist  scholastics.  Wait  until  some  radical  duck  really 
talks  'Direct  Action'  to  a  few  of  these  fellows  some  day 
and  see  what  happens." 

"Listen!"  said  Dan  putting  his  hand  on  the  other's 
arm.  "Get  this  he's  saying." 

"We  must  look  to  the  system  which  will  guarantee 
the  common  ownership  of  the  means  of  production  and 
distribution",  intoned  the  socialist  dreamer.  "This  sys- 
tem, my  comrades,  implies  the  result  of  the  application 
of  the  theory  of  evolution  to  human  affairs." 

"The  usual  socialist  propaganda",  remarked  Walton. 

Cronel  continued.  "A  proletarian  revolution  is  neces- 
sary. To  accomplish  this  wonderful  act  of  universal 
emancipation  is  the  duty  of  the  modern  proletariat." 

"What  does  this  fellow  do  besides  speak  on  corners?" 
asked  Dan  as  he  and  Walton  moved  along. 

"He's  a  hard-working,  mild-mannered  machinist  by 
day  and  a  preacher  of  socialism  at  night",  responded 
Walton.  "He  thinks  he  has  a  mission  of  education  to 
perform  and  he's  fearfully  sincere  about  it." 

"That  kind  of  educating",  replied  Bradshaw,  "is  a 
hell  of  a  thankless  job." 


CHAPTER  IV 
INTO  THE  DEPTHS 

It  was  at  the  Monticana  mine  of  the  Norton  proper- 
ties, always  referred  to  in  mining  circles  as  'The  Mont' 
and  among  the  most  famous  of  the  district's  great  mines 
for  size  and  excellence  of  equipment,  that  Bradshaw  se- 
cured his  first  job. 

With  several  hundred  other  men  of  various  nationali- 
ties, Dan,  reporting  for  his  first  shift,  the  morning  fol- 
lowing his  being  hired,  disrobed  in  the  'Dry',  as  the 
change  room  of  the  Mont  in  common  with  those  at  the 
other  mines  was  called,  and  got  into  his  digging  clothes. 
In  the  Dry,  a  well  lighted  and  heated  structure  with  rows 
of  steel  lockers  and  shower  baths  and  zinc-lined  wash 
basins,  the  men  going  on  shift  or  coming  off  would  frat- 
ernize according  to  their  moods.  The  carefree  individual 
with  the  ready  laugh  whose  locker  was  next  to  Dan's  and 
who  sociably  occupied  the  same  bench  with  him,  kept  up 
a  somewhat  one-sided  but  well-intentioned  running  fire 
of  friendly  conversation. 

"First  time  down  the  hole?"  he  asked. 

"Yes",  replied  Dan. 

"Thought  so",  said  the  other  with  a  laugh.  "I  kin 
spot  a  new  guy  as  far  as  I  kin  lamp  him." 

When  they  were  almost  ready  to  leave  the  Dry,  his 
new  acquaintance  again  addressed  Dan. 
"Say,  my  name's  Jackson." 


20  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Mine's  Bradshaw",  said  Dan,  and  they  shook  hands. 

"Well,  Bradshaw,  you'd  best  take  your  lunch  bucket 
along.  We  don't  come  on  top  to  eat  at  noon — eatin'  time 
in  the  mine  day  or  night  shifts  is  always  called  noon." 

Bradshaw  hastily  returned  for  his  bucket. 

"Say",  resumed  Jackson,  as  they  stood  on  the  landing 
at  the  head  of  the  steel  steps  leading  to  the  ground, 
"when  you're  bein'  dropped  down  the  shaft  an*  you  feel  a 
pressin'  in  your  ears,  put  your  fingers  in  'em  an'  blow 
against  the  eardrums.  That'll  help  a  lot.  Listen — if  you 
ever  get  lost  underground  an'  your  light's  out,  feel  for 
the  car  tracks  an'  where  they  join  another  set  of  tracks 
feel  which  way  the  switch-points  go  an'  follow  that  direc- 
tion along  the  tracks.  You'll  get  to  the  station  on  that 
level  that  way.  If  you're  where  the  'lectric  lights  is 
burnin'  watch  the  wires.  They  get  heavier  as  you  come 
nearer  the  station." 

Dan  thanked  him. 

"Oh  that's  all  right,  Friend",  returned  Jackson  jocu- 
larly. "That  stuff  all  helps",  and  he  went  clattering 
down  the  stairs. 

Over  the  barb-wired  red  fence  that  surrounded  the 
Mont  mine-yard  with  its  various  big  mine  buildings,  huge 
steel  hoist  and  criss-crossing  of  trolley  tracks,  Dan  could 
see  many  other  such  red-painted  fences  enclosing  mine- 
yards,  and  up  and  down  the  side  of  the  hill  were  many 
buildings  and  hoists,  those  on  the  summit  sharply  sil- 
houetted and  some  of  the  tall,  black  smokestacks  in  close- 
belted  rows  like  sections  of  a  great  pipe-organ.  There 
were  many  plumes  of  steam,  the  hum  of  great,  intricate 
hoisting  engines,  the  rumble  of  ore  skips  and  cages,  the 
puffing  of  locomotives,  the  thousand  and  one  other  notes 
of  work  all  blending  into  a  diapason  that  was  the  very 
Voice  of  this  world  of  Labor  of  which  Dan  Bradshaw 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  21 

now  had  become  a  part.  Under  this  vigorous  industry 
lay  enormous  bodies  of  gray-greenish  rock  that  held  the 
copper  and  zinc  and  much  of  the  gold  and  silver,  too,  and 
to  delve  in  the  heart  of  a  mighty  treasure-trove  was  to 
be  Dan's  work.  The  romance  of  it  all  was  uppermost  in 
him,  and  he  was  thrilled. 

"A  man  can  make  good  here  if  he's  got  it  in  him", 
he  said  to  himself.  "I'll  come  up  out  of  the  hurly-burly !" 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Dan  took  his  place  in  the 
line  of  men  passing  through  the  small  office  in  the  corner 
of  the  building  where  a  clerk,  back  of  a  short  counter, 
was  checking  off  the  men,  and  where  another  clerk  was 
handing  out  candles,  two  to  a  man.  Dan,  following  the 
example  of  the  others,  placed  his  candles  in  his  jumper 
pocket.  Some  of  the  men,  especially  the  foremen,  shift- 
bosses,  samplers  and  skinners,  went  into  an  adjoining 
room  to  charge  carbide  lamps,  the  samplers  and  skinners 
then  fastening  theirs  to  the  front  of  their  caps. 

On  his  way  to  the  turn-sheet,  a  steel-plated  floor  that 
leveled  the  approach  to  the  shaft,  Dan  glanced  through  a 
window  of  the  engine  house  where  the  massive  hoisting 
engines  were  working  with  clocklike  precision  and  cer- 
tainty. Their  nickeled  parts  glistened,  their  brass  was 
burnished,  and  scarcely  a  scratch  marred  the  deep  black 
of  their  frames.  They  seemed  possessed  of  a  human  con- 
sciousness as  if  realizing  the  dependency  placed  on  them 
by  hundreds  of  men.  And  magnificently  oblivious  of  the 
crowd  in  front  of  the  engine  house  and  under  the  great 
steel  hoist,  and  able  to  distinguish  amid  the  bedlam  of 
noises  the  merest  squeak  of  the  wonderful  mechanisms 
of  which  they  had  charge,  stood  the  engineers  high  on 
their  platforms  above  their  engines,  watching  dials  and 
listening  for  signal  bells,  ready  to  grasp  any  of  the  semi- 
circle of  bright  brass  controllers  or  handles  of  long,  black 


22  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

brake  levers  before  them.  Emulating  the  serious  concen- 
tration of  their  chiefs,  the  oilers  and  engine  wipers  went 
about  their  work  with  nonchalant  intentness. 

There  was  a  reckless  good  nature  manifested  in  the 
crowd  of  miners  and  muckers  waiting  to  be  lowered 
underground,  a  rather  rapid  process,  for  no  ore  was 
hoisted  when  shifts  were  going  down  or  coming  up,  so 
that  now  the  big  ore  skips  were  hanging  on  the  gallows- 
frame. 

Dan  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and,  turning,  he  saw 
Jackson. 

"Who's  your  shift  boss?"  asked  his  new  friend. 

"Smith". 

"Then  you're  on  the  eighteen  hundred — a  good  level. 
I  work  there,  too,  so  we'll  go  down  together." 

The  cages  had  been  shooting  up  and  down  with  un- 
ceasing regularity,  the  men  destined  for  the  upper  levels 
going  down  first.  Then  came  the  time  for  Dan  to  go 
below.  The  station  tender  raised  the  iron  bar  extending 
across  the  front  of  the  shaft  compartment  before  which 
Dan  stood,  swung  open  the  safety  doors  of  the  cage's 
third  and  lowest  deck,  and  following  Jackson  and  several 
others  bound  for  the  same  level,  Dan  stepped  on.  In 
turn,  the  middle  and  top  decks  were  brought  level  with 
the  turn-sheet  and  loaded  with  human  freight.  There 
came  a  staccato  of  bell  taps,  the  sharp  puffing  of  an 
engine  exhaust,  and  the  cage  plunged  into  the  depths. 
The  velocity  of  its  downward  rush  made  Dan  catch  his 
breath.  Pitch  darkness  prevailed  excepting  when  a  mo- 
mentary swish  came  in  the  rumbling  of  the  cage 
against  the  guides  and  a  streak  of  light,  shining  through 
the  jointure  of  the  double  iron  doors  of  a  level,  flashed 
by.  That  occurred  every  hundred  feet,  so  Jackson  told 
him,  and  Dan,  clenching  his  teeth,  mentally  noted  that 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  23 

he  never  had  progressed  at  such  a  speed.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  the  cage  must  have  dropped  a  great  distance 
when,  to  his  startled  amazement,  the  deck  which  he  had 
boarded  appeared  to  be  falling  away  from  him,  but 
quickly  he  sensed  the  cage  bottom  and  realized  he  actu- 
ally was  on  it.  Suddenly  the  cage  seemed  to  be  bobbing 
up  and  down  in  ever-increasing  leaps  and  falls,  much  as 
a  small  boy  might  dangle  a  ball  at  the  end  of  a  long 
elastic.  Dan  swallowed  hard.  He  did  not  know  if  this 
bobbing  motion  was  customary  and  he  did  not  like  to 
inquire  about  it. 

"Feel  that?"  asked  Jackson  with  a  laugh.  "You'll 
soon  get  used  to  it.  The  cable's  got  to  have  elastic  play 
like  that  or  it  'ud  break  maybe." 

"If  the  oF  string  breaks — zowee!",  remarked  a  man 
behind  Dan. 

A  volley  of  friendly  curses  followed. 

The  cage  settled  down  to  a  steady,  but  no  less  speedy, 
descent  and  when  Dan  felt  a  pressing  against  his  ear- 
flrums  he  bethought  himself  of  Jackson's  advice.  When 
the  cage  began  slowing  it  seemed  to  Dan  as  if  his  feet 
had  left  the  bottom  of  the  cage  and  he  was  soaring  up 
the  shaft,  a  sensation  often  felt  not  only  by  novices  but 
by  experienced  mining  men.  Dan's  deck  was  stopped 
with  remarkable  precision  opposite  two  iron  doors. 
These  were  swung  open  by  the  station  tender,  who  also 
opened  the  safety  doors  of  the  deck,  and  Dan  and  the 
others  stepped  off  on  the  turn-sheet  after  which  the  other 
two  decks  were  brought  down  to  discharge  their  cargoes. 
The  doors  were  banged  shut,  the  station-tender  jerked 
the  signal  rope  and  the  cage  went  hurtling  up  the  shaft. 
A  train  of  ore-laden  mine  cars  was  being  backed  on  the 
turn-sheet  by  a  squat,  powerful  electric  engine.  The  con- 
tents of  cars  were  being  dumped  into  the  chute-pockets, 


24  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

the  ore  crashing  down  the  chutes  to  where  the  ore  skips 
later  could  get  it.  Immediately  opposite  the  iron  doors, 
giving  access  to  this  level,  and  across  the  turn-sheet,  be- 
gan the  long,  incandescent-dotted,  car-tracked  gallery 
that  was  the  main  drift.  Men  who  had  been  lowered 
with  Dan  were  passing  into  it  on  the  way  to  their  work. 

The  shift  boss,  Smith,  standing  near  the  main  drift's 
entrance,  beckoned  to  Dan  and  two  other  men,  an  Italian 
and  a  Finlander,  and  without  a  word  turned  and  entered 
it.  Bradshaw  and  the  other  two  followed.  Far  along 
this  drift,  through  cross-cuts  and  other  drifts,  they  made 
their  way,  occasionally  stepping  aside  to  let  ore  trains 
pass,  until  they  came  to  a  ladder  fastened  to  the  timber- 
ing beside  an  ore  bin.  Up  this  ladder  for  eight  feet  to  a 
small  landing  and  then  up  another  such  ladder  for  a  like 
distance,  Dan,  the  Italian  and  the  Finn  followed  Smith 
and  finally  arrived  on  the  second  floor  of  the  stope  where 
they  were  to  shovel  ore  into  a  chute  that  led  to  the  bin, 
as  soon  as  possible  after  the  rock  was  broken  down  from 
the  face  where,  even  now,  a  machine  man  and  his  helper 
were  preparing  to  drill  for  the  blasting  to  be  done  when 
the  shift  was  ended.  Two  carbide  lamps  and  several 
candle  flames  furnished  a  murky  illumination. 

Observing  that  the  Italian  and  the  Finn  were  putting 
their  lunch  buckets  in  a  place  of  safety  at  one  side,  Dan 
did  likewise ;  for  this  was  to  be  their  dining-room  during 
the  eating  time. 

The  shift  boss  addressed  them  brusquely. 

"Ye  fellers  muck  here",  he  said.  "See  that  ye  keep 
this  floor  clean  an'  the  rock  goin'  into  the  bin.  An'  keep 
under  the  timberin'."  Then  he  left. 

The  three  equipped  themselves  with  shovels  and  went 
to  work. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  2$ 

"Ef  yuh  fall  in  chute,  yuh  get  hall  of  a  fall",  cautioned 
the  Finn. 

And  so  it  was  that  Dan  Bradshaw  began  his  first 
shift  as  a  mucker  eighteen  hundred  feet  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  a  great  Butte  mine. 

***** 

Eight  hours  after  he  had  gone  on  shift,  Bradshaw 
was  being  rushed  to  the  top  in  a  three-deck  cage  with 
some  twenty-five  of  his  fellow  workers,  but  the  uprush 
was  not  nearly  as  disconcerting  to  him  as  had  been  the 
lowering  in  the  morning.  There  were  new  blisters  on  his 
palms  at  the  base  of  his  fingers,  and  an  unaccustomed 
ache  between  his  shoulder  blades. 

When  the  cage  shot  up  into  the  sunlight,  the  air 
seemed  wonderfully  and  crisply  invigorating.  Half  an 
hour  later,  hundreds  of  miners,  muckers,  topmen  and 
others  from  the  Mont  were  striding  through  the  big 
gateway,  swinging  their  lunch  buckets,  joking  and  laugh- 
ing. Some  of  them  stopped  just  outside  the  gateway  to 
empty  the  remnants  of  their  lunches  into  the  big  wooden 
pails  held  up  by  various  youngsters,  who  thus  secured 
provender  for  the  cows  at  home. 

Dan  and  Jackson  walked  down  the  graded  road  to- 
gether and  where  a  branch  road  joined  it  going  to  a 
suburb  at  the  city's  edge,  Jackson  left  him.  When  he 
reached  Carty's  saloon,  Bradshaw  hesitated,  and  then 
turned  into  the  place.  Other  mine  workers  were  there. 
Carty,  himself,  was  tending  bar  together  with  his  two 
bartenders. 

Dan  drew  in  long  draughts  from  a  thick,  tall  schooner 
of  beer.  When  he  had  finished  it,  Carty  extended  an  in- 
vitation. 

"Have  one  on  the  house." 

Bradshaw  smiled.  "Well,  if  you  insist",  he  said. 


26  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Ever  try  a  'alf-and-'alf  ?"  asked  Carty. 

"Can't  say  that  I  have." 

"Here,  I'll  fix  you  up  one — it's  half  porter  and  half 
beer." 

Dan  sipped  the  mixture.  "Goes  good",  he  declared, 
and  drank  it.  "I'll  try  another." 

Leaving  Carty's,  Bradshaw  went  down  Working  Lane 
to  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity's  place  with  more  of  a  swagger. 
His  thoughts  sent  the  blood  bounding  through  his  veins. 
Was  he  not  one  of  the  men  who  labored  underground  in 
one  of  Butte's  greatest  mines,  which  fact  of  itself  be- 
tokened much  of  physical  brawn  and  courage?  Was  he 
not  one  of  the  army  of  workers  who  made  this  city  the 
famed  locality  it  was?  And  was  this  not  the  place  in 
which  to  assert  himself  and  win  that  recognition  which 
would  establish  him  as  a  leader  among  men?  Was  there 
not  much  human  material  all  about  him  waiting  for  him 
to  mould  it  as  he  might  see  fit?  And  then  when  leader- 
ship and  success  came  because  of  what  he  would  do  for 
those  whom  he  would  lead,  what  other  possibilities  might 
there  not  be  ?  Who  would  not  look  kindly  on  a  man  who 
would  dare  and  do  and  prove  himself  a  chieftain  among 
men? 

Bradshaw  found  Walton  waiting  for  him  in  front  of 
the  boarding  house,  and  Dan  was  pleased,  for  he  liked 
this  tall,  serious-minded,  quiet  but  determined  man.  He 
admired  Walton  for  his  pluck,  for  the  latter  a  trained 
newspaperman,  had  come  west  for  his  health  and,  hav- 
ing been  unsuccessful  in  securing  newspaper  work  in 
Butte  had  followed  the  course  of  many  another  of  his 
kind  and,  asking  no  odds  of  anyone,  had  gone  to  work 
in  the  mines. 

"I  waited  to  see  you  and  tell  you  the  good  news",  said 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  27 

Walton  cheerfully.  "I've  landed  on  at  last.  I'm  going 
to  work  for  the  biggest  newspaper  in  Butte." 

"Good  luck  to  you,  Old  Man,  good  luck!"  exclaimed 
Dan  seizing  Walton's  outstretched  hand. 

"Will  you  keep  in  touch  with  me?"  asked  Walton. 

"Surest  thing  you  know",  declared  Dan  emphatically. 
And  then  with  a  smile :  "But  I  promise  not  to  make  any 
touches." 


CHAPTER  V 
SHOES  AND  SOCIALISM 

It  became  more  or  less  a  habit  with  Bradshaw  to  stop 
at  Carty's  after  coming  off  shift,  provided  he  was  on  a 
shift  that  did  not  end  when  Carty's  was  closed,  for,  like 
the  other  saloons  in  Butte,  that  place  was  dark  from  mid- 
night to  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

Sometimes  he  would  wander  up  to  Carty's  during  his 
waking,  loafing  hours.  It  was  not  at  all  his  nature  to  find 
surcease  from  workaday  affairs  in  a  saloon,  or  with  the 
typical  saloon  element,  but  Dan  found  that  Carty's  in  a 
measure  partook  of  the  nature  of  a  man's  social  club  for 
Working  Lane.  There  he  could  take  a  leading  part  in 
the  discussion  of  various  topics  that  were  considered 
from  different  angles  and  often  with  much  acumen.  And 
as  Dan  had  the  faculty  of  expressing  himself  well,  he 
frequently  was  the  center  of  an  interested  circle  in  front 
of  the  bar.  True,  there  were  times  when,  in  a  spirit  of 
good  fellowship,  he  drank  too  many  'alf-and-'alves,  not 
that  they  seemed  to  hurt  him  physically  for  he  worked 
hard  and  was  in  trim  condition,  but  they  excited  him  and 
then  he  would  talk  somewhat  boisterously,  a  bit  boast- 
fully and  a  trifle  belligerently.  But  he  won  a  growing 
prominence  there  that  was  not  at  all  displeasing  to  his 
man-nature  and  even  where  he  worked  in  the  mine,  men 
laboring  nearby  would  seek  him  out  at  noon  to  listen  to 
his  ideas  while  they  ate.  Some  of  the  rougher  clientele 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  29 

at  Carty's,  and  even  the  tougher  element  in  the  mine, 
were  willing  to  go  so  far  as  to  forgive  the  correctness  of 
his  manner  of  talk  and  other  evidences  of  Dan's  educa- 
tion. 

Working  steadily,  he  was  able  to  indulge  his  taste  for 
neat  attire,  and  even  that  was  forgiven  him  by  his 
rougher  admirers. 

Leaving  a  department  store  one  day,  he  came  face  to 
face  for  a  brief  instant  with  "The  Girl  of  the  Train",  as 
he  had  come  to  think  of  her.  He  was  not  sure  that  she 
recognized  him,  but  that  day  he  did  not  go  to  Carty's 
and  his  visits  at  the  saloon  for  a  while  thereafter  were 
somewhat  less  frequent.  It  was  apparent,  however,  that 
he  already  had  established  a  degree  of  prominence  in 
labor  circles  that  brought  him  to  more  emphatic  notice 
in  the  developments  of  the  ensuing  months  and  did  not 
require  support  by  reason  of  social  sessions  at  Carty's. 

There  soon  came  a  crisis  in  the  miners'  union,  to 
which  Dan  belonged,  that  was  epochal  in  the  affairs  of 
organized  labor  throughout  the  nation.  Rent  by  internal 
strife,  the  union  split  into  two  distinct  organizations,  of 
which  the  newer  one  virtually  killed  the  force  and  effect 
of  the  parent  body,  and  then  committed  suicide  by  fall- 
ing under  the  sway  of  a  radicalism  of  "Direct  Action" 
type.  But  socialism,  radicalism  and  direct  actionism 
were  not  eliminated  from  the  community.  Drawing 
from  the  Intellectual  Socialists,  the  Radical  Socialists 
and  the  Direct  Actionists,  each  of  which  factions  had 
regarded  the  other  two  with  sneering  animosity,  there 
came  a  fourth  and  nameless  entity  whose  unrecorded 
membership  was  represented  at  socialist  meetings  and 
direct  actionist  gatherings.  It  trifled  with  the  "intel- 
lectual" considerations  of  idealistic  socialism,  and  had  a 
hankering  for  direct  actionist  methods.  Also  it  was  very 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


peaceful,  when  there  was  nothing  to  be  discordant 
about,  or  rather  when  no  opportunity  for  being  so  af- 
forded itself. 

It  was  with  this  fourth  quantity,  unknown  as  to 
name,  without  formal  organization  or  defined  purpose, 
but  really  more  alive  than  might  have  been  supposed, 
that  Dan  became  affiliated.  He  had  rather  good  claim 
to  its  leadership  for  he  was  asked  to  decide  various  ques- 
tions of  moment  to  its  unrecorded  membership  and  there 
was  enough  of  the  physical  man  in  him  to  enable  the  en- 
forcement of  his  dictates  by  right  of  might  and  forceful- 
ness.  With  adventure  still  strong  in  him,  he  found  such 
power  appealing. 

In  those  same  months,  Bradshaw  advanced  from 
muckerdom  to  the  position  of  machine-drill  man  in  the 
Mont. 

Walton  rapidly  made  his  way  to  the  Sunday  editor- 
ship, where  other  important  editorial  duties  devolved 
upon  him.  Bradshaw  visited  him  both  at  his  office  and 
at  his  rooms,  for  though  pursuing  ever  more  divergent 
pathways,  these  two  saw  in  each  other  attributes  of  char- 
acter which  they  sincerely  liked,  and  in  their  discussions 
they  were  candid,  expressive  and  honest. 

In  Bradshaw  a  dual  temperament  often  manifested 
itself  with  regard  to  the  status  of  society  that  most  at- 
tracted him.  The  artistic,  the  refined  and  the  true  made 
forceful  appeal  to  his  finer  nature.  Circumstances  had 
thrown  him  into  circles  that  indeed  tried  his  stamina 
and  wherein  his  power  of  assertive  leadership,  his  cour- 
age and  his  belief  that  he  wanted  to  benefit  those  whom 
he  felt  he  had  been  called  on  to  lead,  dominated  him. 
Yet  there  was  the  natural  prompting  that  he  utilize  his 
ability,  his  education  and  his  determination  for  a  per- 
sonal advancement  that  would  enable  the  consummation 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  31 

of  dreams  which  he  cherished.  He  sometimes  took  long 
walks  about  the  city  trying  to  wrestle  with  and  solve  his 
problems  to  his  own  complete  satisfaction. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  walks  that  an  irritating  nail 
in  his  shoe  caused  him  to  enter  a  small,  leather-odored 
shop,  over  whose  door  were  the  words  on  a  small,  simply 
painted  sign :  "Klemner  the  Cobbler". 

Klemner,  bowed  with  years  of  labor  at  his  cobbler's 
bench,  looked  up  questioningly  and  when  Dan  explained 
the  nature  of  his  visit,  invited  him  to  be  seated.  The 
shoemaker  laid  aside  the  brogan  into  the  sole  of  which  he 
had  been  driving  hobnails,  and  took  the  offending  shoe 
that  Bradshaw  handed  him,  smoothing  down  its  soft,  pli- 
able leather  with  toil-wrinkled  fingers  seamed  with  years 
of  waxing  thread. 

"Good  shoe",  he  ventured. 

Bradshaw  looked  up  from  the  paper  he  had  casually 
picked  up  from  the  heap  beside  his  chair.  It  was  titled, 
"The  Socialist  Age". 

"Yes,  pretty  good",  he  agreed  affably.  "They  cost 
six  dollars — ought  to  be  good." 

The  shoemaker  tightened  his  lips.  Six  dollars — the 
price  of  three  pairs  of  brogans!  Without  speaking,  he 
finished  removing  the  nail  and  handed  the  shoe  back  to 
Dan. 

"I  happened  to  see  a  letter  in  this  paper  by  Clair- 
mont",  Dan  remarked.  "I  didn't  think  Clairmont  wrote 
for  this  paper.  Fact  is,  I  didn't  know  he  was  a  social- 
ist." 

"He  writes  for  nearly  every  issue",  Klemner  said,  re- 
suming work  on  the  brogan.  He  nodded  at  a  stack  of 
papers  on  a  shelf  behind  him  where  also  lay  a  battered 
copy  of  "Looking  Backward"  and  a  paper-bound  "De- 


32  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

scent  of  Man".    "He's  got  letters  in  all  of  them  papers, 
too." 

"This  one",  said  Bradshaw  indicating  the  paper  he 
had  been  reading,  "is  well  worded.  Ever  rea'd  any  of  his 
books?" 

Klemner  shook  his  head.  He  was  a  taciturn  man, 
past  the  meridian  of  life.  His  hair  was  thin  and  wispy, 
and  his  eyes,  behind  their  large,  round  glasses,  were 
thoughtful. 

"You  ought  to",  Bradshaw  went  on.  "They're  rated 
highly."  He  stood  up,  thrusting  one  hand  into  his 
socket.  "How  much  do  I  owe  you?" 

Klemner  drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  mouth. 

"Clairmont  writes  books  for  glory",  he  said,  "but 
them  letters  of  his  is  different.  He  writes  them  as  a 
teacher.  You  don't  owe  me  nothing." 

"I  appreciate  your  kindness",  said  the  miner  holding 
cut  his  hand.  "My  name's  Bradshaw — Dan  Bradshaw." 

Klemner  stood  up  and  regarded  Dan  intently.  "So 
you're  Dan  Bradshaw",  he  said  slowly,  as  if  to  himself. 
Then  he  shook  Dan's  hand  warmly. 

Thus  Bradshaw  became  acquainted  with  Klemner. 
He  came  to  know  of  Klemner's  life  in  the  modest  three 
rooms  behind  his  shop.  He  came  to  know  Klemner's  tall, 
buxomly  handsome  daughter,  Millie.  In  a  burst  of  con- 
fidence the  shoemaker  once  said  to  Dan,  "My  daughter 
Millie  ain't  got  much  education  'cause  I  can't  let  her  get 
the  polish  I  might  if  I  had  the  means  and",  with  a  dry 
little  laugh,  "she  won't  miss  it  any  'cause  she  can  only 
look  forward  to  a  workingman  for  a  husband.  It 
wouldn't  do  for  her  to  be  too  well  educated.  It  might 
?mrt  her  chances  if  the  men  of  her  class  got  the  notion 
she  was  superior  to  them,  and  I  want  my  girl  to  get  at 
least  as  good  a  workingman  as  she  can." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  33 

Bradshaw  had  different  ideas  on  the  subject.  He 
overlooked  the  fact  that  he  was  himself  a  young,  vigor- 
ous man,  good  to  look  upon  and  much  more  cultured  in 
those  niceties  which  make  appeal  to  the  feminine  dispo- 
sition, than  were  the  men  whom  Millie  was  accustomed 
to  meet.  It  was  a  pity,  he  thought,  that  such  perfect, 
beautiful  womanhood  should  sink  away  to  be  lost  among 
those  whom  Klemner  had  styled  her  class. 

In  his  masculine  blindness  Dan  failed  to  note  that 
Millie  was  always  "dressed  up"  when  he  came,  that  she 
wore  a  brightly  colored  ribbon  as  a  collar  and  that  her 
large,  brown  eyes  that  looked  out  in  almost  childish  in- 
nocence from  back  of  her  long,  curving  lashes,  bright- 
ened when  she  saw  him.  For  all  her  womanly  physique 
she  was  girlish  in  demeanor,  and  Dan  was  not  surprised 
when  Klemner  told  him  that  his  daughter  was  but 
eighteen.  He  brought  her  several  books  that  he  thought 
might  interest  her,  and  he  presented  her  with  a  gram- 
mar. Occasionally  he  would  share  a  modest  meal  with  the 
Klemners  in  their  little  dining  room  back  of  the  shoe 
shop,  and  after  the  shoemaker  had  expounded  some  of 
his  socialistic  theories  and  urged  Dan  to  make  a  deeper 
study  of  socialism,  he  would  take  up  his  reading  of  "The 
Socialist  Age",  leaving  Bradshaw  to  talk  to  Millie.  Al- 
ways she  would  introduce  the  subject  of  grammar,  so 
that  sitting  side  by  side  at  the  table,  he  would  explain 
certain  matters  in  the  book  which  she  found  a  bit  diffi- 
cult. 

At  Klemner's,  Dan  met  Cronel,  and  found  in  this 
dreamy-eyed  theorist  another  interesting  study.  Indeed 
most  of  those  whom  he  met  at  Klemner's  were  interest- 
ing. They  were  hard-fisted  toilers,  children  of  stern  con- 
ditions, believing  themselves  honest  in  their  convictions 
and  forever  looking  for  the  coming  of  a  great,  illumi- 


34  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

nating  light,  making  a  fetish  of  their  word  of  words — 
Evolution.  Dan  discovered  somewhat  to  his  surprise 
that  these  men  were  more  cognizant  of  upper  class  con- 
ditions than  were  the  upper  classes  of  theirs,  while  at  the 
same  time  they  endeavored  to  adhere  strictly  to  truth  and 
candor  without  malice. 

One  evening  when  Millie  had  endured  all  the  gram- 
mar that  she  could  for  the  time,  she  pushed  the  book 
away  and  led  the  conversation  round  to  a  musical  comedy 
that  was  to  play  in  Butte  the  following  two  nights.  Dan 
invited  her  to  go  with  him  and  she  was  quick  to  accept 
choosing  the  second  night  of  the  performance,  as  she  said 
she  had  promised  to  go  to  the  Paperhangers'  Fifth  An- 
nual ball  the  next  night. 

"With  whom?"  asked  Dan  jokingly. 

"Chris",  she  answered.  "He's  been  asking  me  so 
often  to  go  somewhere  with  him  and  he's  such  an  old 
friend  of  the  family,  I  don't  like  to  hurt  his  feelings  and 
not  go." 

Chris,  who  had  been  her  devoted  admirer  for  the  past 
year,  doubtless  would  have  felt  greatly  aggrieved  had  be 
known  that  Millie  classified  him  as  "a  friend  of  the  fam- 
ily", when  he  fondly  imagined  he  was  her  recognized 
"steady". 

"Can't  you  come  to  the  dance  too  ?"  Millie  asked  Dan. 

"I  hardly  think  so — at  least  if  I  did  look  in  at  the  hall 
sometime  during  the  evening  I  don't  think  I'd  dance  any- 
way", he  replied. 

"Maybe  you'd  change  your  mind  after  you  got  there", 
s»he  remarked. 

Bradshaw  laughed  good-naturedly. 
*       *       *       *      * 

The  ball  was  nearing  its  close  when  Bradshaw  looked 
in,  and  Millie,  who  had  been  keeping  an  eye  on  the  en- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  35 

trance  doors  of  the  hall  all  the  evening,  to  the  mystifica- 
tion of  her  escort,  saw  him  immediately.  She  gave  him 
a  welcoming  smile  when  he  approached  her  and  moved 
over  on  the  long  wall  bench  to  give  him  a  place  beside 
her. 

"I've  saved  you  some  dances"  she  said  but  he  smiled 
and  shook  his  head. 

"Not  dancing  tonight",  he  replied,  "but  I'll  enjoy  sit- 
ting out  a  dance  with  you  if  you'll  let  me." 

Chris  excused  himself  with  a  bluntness  occasioned  by 
diffidence  and  more  or  less  resentment. 

"I  have  the  next  dance",  Millie  told  Bradshaw,  "but 
we'll  sit  out  the  one  after  that." 

Then  one,  Mike  Vignon,  whose  perverse  sobriquet  in 
the  "Direct  Action"  circles  of  which  he  was  the  admit- 
ted leader  was  "Red  Mike"  from  the  fact  of  his  pro- 
nounced swarthiness,  came  to  claim  her  for  the  ensuing 
dance  and  she  tripped  lightly  away  with  him. 

"So  Bradshaw's  too  good  to  come  to  a  dance  like  this, 
but  jus'  drops  in  on  it  to  see  some  certain  party",  Vignon 
remarked  brazenly  to  her  as  they  followed  the  others  in 
their  slightly  free  and  easy,  yet  very  graceful  manner  of 
dancing.  "He  kind  of  hangs  'round  your  place  a  whole 
lot,  don't  he?" 

"It's  none  of  your  business  what  he  does",  Millie  re- 
plied with  spirit,  and  her  challenging  eyes  were  not  so 
childishly  innocent. 

"Chris  don't  seem  to  like  it  much  either",  Vignon 
persisted.  "Chris  is  a  joke.  That  guy  waltzes  like  a 
mule  an'  he's  a  mule  in  everything  else  too." 

Had  Vignon  made  any  such  remark  about  Chris  be- 
fore the  advent  of  Bradshaw,  Millie  would  have  deeply 
resented  the  slur.  As  it  was,  she  looked  at  him  scorn- 
fully. Vignon  came  sometimes  to  Klemner's  shop  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


when  in  his  cups  he  openly  avowed  his  liking  for  Klem- 
ner's  daughter.  She  had  never  shown  the  least  liking 
for  him,  but  for  her  father's  sake  did  not  want  to  affront 
him. 

When  the  dance  was  finished  he  returned  her  to  her 
place  with  never  a  look  at  Bradshaw  and  left  the  hall  to 
visit  the  saloon  two  doors  away.  He  found  Chris  there 
and  engaged  him  in  conversation,  buying  him  several 
drinks  during  the  course  of  their  talk. 

"I  thought  you  would  come  and  dance  with  me",  Mil- 
lie chided  Bradshaw. 

He  protested  that  certain  organization  affairs  had 
kept  him  away. 

"Oh  I  know,  that  old  League  that's  been  organized", 
she  said  poutingly.    "Dad  says  you  are  a  kind  of  a  leader 
in  it.    Oh  yes,  you  are — he  says  so.    He  says  he  thinks 
you  are  going  to  be  great  like  Clairmont.    He's  always 
talking  about  Clairmont.    Do  you  know  Clairmont?" 
"No",  said  Bradshaw  with  a  laugh. 
"Neither  do  I",  she  went  on.    "He  never  comes  to  our 
shop." 

Bradshaw  glanced  at  her  in  sharp  surprise.  As  he 
had  become  better  acquainted  with  her  he  had  realized 
that  nature  had  been  more  bountiful  in  gift  of  beauty  to 
Klemner's  daughter  than  in  perspicacity,  but  he  had  not 
expected  anything  quite  like  this  from  her.  "Oh  no, 
Clairmont  lives  in  New  York",  he  rejoined  casually. 

"I'll  tell  you  something  else",  she  went  on.    "I  heard 
Dad  tell  Mr.  Cronel  that  if  you  would  study  socialism 
more  you'd  be  the  leader  of  what  he  said  was  their  cause. 
And  do  you  know  what  Mr.  Cronel  said  ?" 
Bradshaw  smiled.    "No,  I  can't  imagine." 
"He  said" — and  she  imitated  Crenel's  tone  as  best 
she  could — "  'If  Clairmont,  why  not  Bradshaw?    He  too 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  37 

has  education,  personal  magnetism  and  enthusiasm  and 
he  would  be  a  great  man  for  the  Intellectuals  if  directed 
along  the  right  channel.'  There!  Wasn't  it  nice  of  me 
to  remember  that  just  to  tell  you  how  much  they  think 
of  you?" 

He  was  man  enough  to  like  her  praise.  It  was  rather 
gratifying  to  appear  so  much  a  man  among  men  even  in 
the  eyes  of  the  shoemaker's  daughter  for,  after  all,  Millie 
was  beautiful,  and  compliments  from  a  beautiful  woman 
are  never  unpleasant  to  man-nature.  Bradshaw  thought 
he  never  had  seen  Millie  Klemner  more  attractive  than 
now.  Her  hair,  of  the  same  warm  tint  as  her  eyes,  was 
ample  enough  to  surround  her  well  poised  head  with  a 
coronet  of  thick  braids.  And  as  he  often  had  done  be- 
fore, Bradshaw  wondered  at  her  remarkably  fine  com- 
plexion and  at  the  perfect  blending  of  the  blush  in  her 
cheeks  with  the  milk  whiteness  of  her  neck  which,  full- 
throated  and  firmly  modeled,  he  could  see  at  the  'V 
opening  at  the  top  of  her  bodice  and  sweeping  down  to 
the  swelling  curve  of  her  bosom. 

The  charm  of  her  physical  attraction  swept  over  and 
enveloped  him  for  a  moment. 

"Don't  forget  the  show  tomorrow  night",  he  said 
emphatically,  bending  a  trifle  nearer  her. 

She  flashed  him  a  look  from  the  corner  of  her  eyes 
and  her  smile  disclosed  the  even  whiteness  of  her  teeth. 


CHAPTER  VI 
CRESCENDOES 

Arrayed  in  her  finest,  Millie  indeed  presented  a  most 
attractive  picture  when  Bradshaw  called  for  her  the  fol- 
lowing evening.  A  deeper  blush  suffused  her  cheeks  as 
she  saw  him.  And  Bradshaw  was  delighted  at  the 
thought  of  escorting  so  good-looking  a  girl. 

The  production  proved  entertaining,  and  their  places 
in  the  second  balcony  afforded  them  a  view  of  the  stage 
that  Millie  enthusiastically  declared  to  be  "awful  grand". 
During  the  first  act,  Millie  chewed  gum,  but  otherwise 
Dan  enjoyed  the  show  immensely.  Millie's  conversation 
during  the  single  intermission  was  inane  and  only  by 
glancing  at  her  frequently  could  he  maintain  the  theory 
that  she  surely  was  too  splendid  a  specimen  of  woman- 
hood to  be  permitted  to  slip  away  into  dull  obscurity  for 
the  want  of  the  right  sort  of  stimulus.  He  was  pleased 
to  find  that  the  second  and  concluding  act  began  with  the 
absence  of  Millie's  gum-chewing  accompaniment  and  he 
felt  more  kindly  toward  her.  He  resolved  that  if  given 
the  proper  opportunity  he  would  try  to  make  her  realize 
that  it  would  be  far  more  compatible  with  the  appear- 
ance of  such  a  young  woman  as  Miss  Millie  Klemner  for 
her  to  eschew  gum. 

As  they  came  down  one  of  the  broad  inclines  leading 
to  the  foyer,  Dan,  glancing  casually  over  the  stream  of 
laughing,  chatting  people  down  below  him,  paused 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  39 

sharply  for  a  moment,  the  blood  surging  through  him. 
He  was  looking  at  "The  Girl  of  the  Train"  in  the  midst 
of  a  gay  theater  party. 

He  was  silent  as  he  and  Millie  left  the  theater.  It 
was  as  if  Millie  abruptly  recalled  him  from  some  abstrac- 
tion when  she  indicated  the  other  girl  stepping  into  a 
big,  roomy  limousine  and  exclaimed,  "My!  ain't  that  girl 
got  on  the  loveliest  opry  cloak !" 

And  Dan  wondered  why  Millie's  pointing  and  words 
had  so  annoyed  him.  But  he  inwardly  thanked  Millie 
when  she  declined  to  accompany  him  to  a  restaurant, 
saying  that  'she  had  a  bit  of  lunch  at  home  for  him  and 
her  father'. 

Arrived  at  the  shop,  they  found  Cronel  there  and,  to 
their  surprise,  Vignon,  who  left  at  once.  The  Direct 
Actionist  knew  that  Chris  was  drinking  at  Carty's  and 
a  malicious  scheme  had  presented  itself  to  Vignon. 

"Come  in  and  help  me  set  the  table",  Millie  said  to 
Dan,  while  Klemner  and  Cronel  sat  smoking  and  talk- 
ing in  the  shop. 

After  Bradshaw  had  helped  her  spread  the  cloth,  she 
laughingly  urged  him  to  sit  down  while  she  brought  in 
the  lunch  from  the  kitchen.  Dan  took  a  chair  at  the  table 
and  busied  himself  with  a  newspaper  he  had  picked  up. 
As  the  girl  leaned  over  to  place  a  plate  on  the  table,  her 
hair  brushed  his  cheek  and  as  she  straightened  up  her 
hand  rested  lightly  on  his  for  a  moment.  He  tingled  at 
the  contact  and  turned  towards  her  forgetting  for  an  in- 
stant everything  but  her  physical  lure.  With  a  laugh, 
the  girl  went  into  the  kitchen  and  when  she  reappeared, 
she  found  Bradshaw  again  closely  scanning  the  news- 
paper. She  stopped  behind  him  and  ran  her  fingers 
through  his  hair.  In  the  momentary  feeling  of  revulsion 


40  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

that  was  his  Dan  also  realized  that  again  Millie  was 
briskly  chewing  gum. 

He  arose  and  she  confusedly  placed  the  plate  she  was 
holding  on  the  table. 

At  that  moment  the  shop's  front  door  was  flung  open 
and  Chris,  wild-eyed  and  menacing,  staggered  in.  Vig- 
non  had  abandoned  him  at  the  door  of  the  shop  and  had 
stepped  over  to  the  window  to  peer  in  at  the  scene  to  be 
enacted.  This  was  to  be  a  double  denouement — the  dis- 
grace of  Chris  in  the  eyes  of  Millie  and  a  declaration  of 
war  from  Chris  to  Bradshaw.  More — it  involved  Brad- 
shaw  with  a  girl  which  would  help  to  weaken  Brad- 
shaw's  leadership,  if  not  utterly  ruin  him. 

Klemner  and  Cronel  rose,  and  Klemner  shut  the  front 
door. 

Chris  stumbled  to  the  dining-room  door  and  for  a 
moment  was  seemingly  perplexed  as  though  he  were  not 
sure  as  to  the  number  of  Bradshaws  he  saw. 

"You,  Bradshaw",  he  called  out.  "You  come  for 
Meelie,  but  you  skal  no  get  her.  I  keel  you,  Bradshaw, 
if  you  come  for  Meelie.  An'  me  an*  Vignon  we  kick  you 
out  of  the  League." 

Klemner's  daughter  turned  white  and  stared  at  him. 
Chris  held  out  his  arms  towards  her. 

"Meelie,  Meelie,  I  come  for  you",  he  cried  out  pite- 
ously.  He  moved  forward  and  fell  prostrate,  his  head 
striking  the  fender  of  the  stove  with  a  thud,  before  he 
measured  his  length  on  the  floor. 

The  girl  uttered  a  sharp  cry. 

Bradshaw  and  Cronel  hastily  raised  Chris  and 
propped  him  up  on  a  chair. 

"Get  some  water,  Millie",  ordered  her  father  tersely, 
and  she  turned  at  once  to  obey  him, 


41 


Presently,  after  Dan  had  applied  a  cold  compress  to 
Chris'  head,  that  badly  dazed  man  began  to  regain  pos- 
session of  his  senses.  He  sank  back  weakly.  Millie 
placed  another  cold  bandage  over  the  swelling  on  his 
forehead,  and  he  smiled  up  at  her.  When  Dan  came  in 
line  of  his  vision,  Chris  also  looked  benignly  at  him  and 
it  was  evident  that  he  no  longer  harbored  any  ill-will 
against  anyone.  His  chin  dropped  forward  and  a  long 
drawn  snore  came  from  him.  Chris  slumbered. 

Bradshaw  glanced  at  the  girl,  gathering  up  the  wet 
cloths.  She  picked  up  the  basin  of  water  and  went  into 
the  other  room.  He  felt  very  sorry  for  her.  It  had  been 
a  most  unpleasant  ordeal. 

"Good  night,  Klemner",  said  Bradshaw  quietly,  and 
took  similar  leave  of  Cronel. 

All  at  once  he  seemed  very  apart  from  them.  In- 
stinctively they  had  recognized  a  superiority  in  this  man 
who,  in  this  moment,  had  not  been  able  to  conceal  his 
class. 

Outside,  Bradshaw  drew  a  long  breath  of  the  sweet, 
night  air.  He  was  heart  and  soul  in  need  of  affiliation 
with  what  the  most  cultured  part  of  his  nature  de- 
manded. So,  with  head  erect,  he  went  towards  the  more 
brilliantly  lighted  avenues  determined  to  see  and  talk  to 
Walton,  who,  as  he  knew,  was  in  his  rooms  convalescing 
after  a  severe  cold. 

Vignon,  who  had  witnessed  the  whole  affair  from 
without  the  window,  walked  sullenly,  with  muttered 
curses,  back  to  Carty's. 

Bradshaw  found  the  newspaperman  comfortable  in 
dressing  robe,  enjoying  the  warmth  of  his  grate-fire,  for 
it  was  late  in  the  Fall. 


42  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"I'm  glad  you've  come",  said  Walton  smiling,  as  his 
friend  took  possession  of  a  favorite  big  chair  before  the 
fire  and  lighted  his  pipe. 

"I  will  confess  that  you  and  your  cheerful  grate  have 
a  powerful  attraction  for  me",  declared  the  miner.  "Do 
you  mind  my  turning  out  the  light?" 

Walton  searched  around  on  the  chair  beside  him  for 
his  pipe. 

"Turn  her  out",  he  agreed  heartily.  There  was  a  per- 
fect mutual  understanding  between  these  two  men  and 
the  boyish  breeziness  that  Bradshaw  displayed  at  times 
delighted  the  newspaperman. 

"It  might  seem  curious",  Bradshaw  began  with  a 
little  laugh  as  he  settled  back  again  in  his  chair,  after 
pushing  the  "off"  button  of  the  light  switch,  "but  being 
able  to  sit  here  and  talk  to  you  John,  makes  a  grate-fire 
doubly  attractive  in  a  compensating  way  for — for  disap- 
pointments. It's  a  luxury  there  is  no  way  of  enjoying  at 
the  hostelry  of  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity.  For  the  life  of  me  I 
can't  figure  out  the  analogy,  but  just  the  same,  being  here 
right  now  like  this  has  the  effect  on  me  that  certain  kinds 
of  music  have.  Now  you  take  good,  light,  cheerful  comic 
opera  stuff — just  enough  to  remind  you  of  the  dazzle  and 
the  dancing  and  all  that — why  it  makes  you  glad  to  be 
alive,  just  plain,  everyday  Mr.  Nobody,  but  glad  you're 
living  and  glad  you  are  liking  it.  Grasp  the  idea?" 

"Perfectly".    Walton  puffed  slowly  at  his  pipe. 

Bradshaw  watched  the  lazy  curls  of  smoke  from  both 
pipes  blending  near  the  ceiling.  "And  for  the  good  of 
the  soul",  he  went  on,  "give  me  Irish  music,  for  plaintive 
or  gay  it  has  a  soul  and  a  character  of  its  own  and  it  gets 
right  into  the  heart  of  you.  Then  there's  another  kind, 
like  Liszt's  Hungarian  Rhapsody, — the  one  that  is  heavy, 
ponderous,  rippling  up  and  down,  always  giving  promise 


43 


of  something  to  come,  some  part  that  is  going  to  be  a 
surprise,  something  more  ponderous  than  the  rest  and 
many  times  more  charming,  and  then  it  calms  down  to  a 
tiny  trickle  of  a  trill  and  breaks  out  grandly,  swelling 
into  full  crescendo." 

"Crescendo's  good,"  Walton  murmured.  "Seems  to 
me,  Dan,  my  Lad,  that  is  just  about  what  you  are  hitting 
for.  The  city  editor  who  has  a  very  efficient  under- 
ground news  system,  tells  me  you  are  the  inspiring  mel- 
ody in  certain  circles,  my  dear  young  socialistic-anar- 
chistic scholar.  Seriously  though,  Dan,  a  man  who  can 
falk  as  you  can  has  no  business  mucking  in  a  mine." 

"Mirthful  kicker,  I  am  a  machine-drill  man  and  not 
a  mucker,  and  furthermore  I  am  right  where  I  ought  to 
be,  close  to  my  people.  Oh  yes,  don't  scoff.  They  are  my 
people  for  I  have  made  them  so.  I  want  to  help  them.  I 
want  to  get  them  thinking  and  reasoning  and  trying  to 
better  their  condition  properly  and  logically.  I  can't  in- 
terest them  unless  I  show  that  I  am  one  of  them  or  they 
might  become  suspicious.  I've  got  to  make  myself  more 
or  less  conspicuous." 

Walton  laughed  shortly. 

"The  impetuosity  and  sublime  egotism  of  enthusi- 
astic youth — that's  what's  ailing  you  most,  Dan.  Your 
people,  as  you  call  them,  are  with  you  now  for  they  like 
novelties  and  you  are  still  a  novelty  to  them.  I  honor 
and  like  a  great  many  of  them.  But  you  look  only  at  the 
surface.  You  do  not  understand  crowd  psychology. 
Anyway,  what  is  your  ultimate  purpose  for  them — what 
is  the  grand  idea?" 

"Proper  evolution  along  proper  lines — that's  about  as 
close  a  definition  as  I  can  give  off-hand",  replied  Brad- 
shaw.  "I  can't  go  into  detail,  because  there  are  certain 
conditions  involved  that  you  haven't  studied  John,  if 


44  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

you  really  knew  the  meaning  of  'bourgeois'  and  'prole- 
tariat' you  might  better  understand  the  matter." 

"Bourgeois — the  middle-class  you  mean.  Why  Dan — " 

"Excuse  me,  John",  Bradshaw  interrupted,  "that 
doesn't  mean  the  middle  class.  When  the  heads  of  the 
French  nobility  fell  the  middle  class  came  into  power. 
There  are  only  two  classes  existing  today — the  bourgeois 
and  the  proletariat — that  is  to  say  the  ruling  class 
and—" 

Walton  gestured  with  his  pipe.  "And  what  Cronel 
calls  the  'wage-slaves'.  Oh  yes — I've  heard  all  that  stuff 
too.  No  Dan,  where  you  fellows  with  the  glib  socialist 
and  direct  actionist  phrases  get  in  your  work  in  attract- 
ing a  following  is  by  the  expressed  or  intimated  promise 
of  a  system  of  the  great  divide-up  of  all  earthly  posses- 
sions. Such  a  theory  is  against  human  nature.  A  plan 
of  that  kind  would  kill  ambition ;  men  would  even  forget 
to  invent.  You  see,  at  intervals  they  would  have  to  divide 
up  again  and  so  on  until  the  really  energetic  and  capable 
ones  would  quit  in  sheer  disgust.  Finally  it  would  mean 
stagnation  or  the  most  fearful  civil  war  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen." 

"I  don't  advocate  the  divide-up  plan",  Bradshaw  per- 
sisted. "Ambition  can't  be  killed  and  men  are  sure  to 
progress  despite  even  strenuous  opposition.  I  want  tal- 
ent and  brain  to  receive  their  proper  consideration  and 
compensation  too." 

"And  so  they  should  and  do",  declared  the  newspaper- 
man. "But  if  the  Cronel  pipe-dream  suddenly  could  be 
put  into  effect,  how  long  do  you  imagine  those  of  less 
brain  power  than  others  would  be  willing  to  have  higher 
compensation  given  to  those  of  even  proved  greater  abil- 
ity? Why  man — human  nature  makes  us  perfectly  will- 
ing, I  should  say  eager,  to  concede  our  own  greatness." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  45 

Bradshaw  was  just  as  vehement.  "Human  nature! 
— it  is  only  a  matter  of  education  and  yet  a  most  con- 
venient thing  on  which  to  lay  our  sins  and  some  of  the 
troublesome  habits  we  haven't  the  moral  courage  to 
change." 

Walton  laughed.  "Dan,  my  boy,  there's  a  keenness 
of  a  kind  in  you.  No  wonder  you  are  a  leader  in  that 
new  League  of  yours." 

Bradshaw  bowed  with  mock  gratification. 

The  newspaperman  turned  his  head  the  better  to  con- 
template the  miner.  "And  now  be  honest  and  admit  this 
to  me,  Dan — is  it  not  true  that  many  of  those  whom  you 
have  met  assembled  under  the  banners  of  socialism,  rad- 
icalism, direct  actionism,  the  League  and  what-not  of 
that  character,  are  not  students  of  political  economy  or 
any  other  kind  of  students,  nor  sociologists  nor  altruists, 
but  just  a  disgruntled,  envious  and  often  trouble-seeking 
element  ready  to  hurl  their  own  leaders  to  perdition  if 
that  would  mean  personally  benefitting  themselves?"  He 
paused  a  moment  and  continued  more  earnestly.  "Tell 
me,  lad,  would  they  not  do  that  to  you  despite  your 
avowed  purpose  to  try  to  help  them,  lead  them  on  to 
better  things,  if  they  thought  it  to  their  individual  inter- 
ests to  do  so  ?  Have  they  not  those  very  faults  which  they 
are  so  ready  to  ascribe  to  others  who  do  not  think  as 
they  do?" 

"W-ell",  rejoined  Bradshaw  slowly,  "I  can't  exactly 
say  'yes'  to  your  complex  question.  Strictly  speaking, 
there  might  be  a  proportion  of  those  who  appear  dis- 
gruntled, but  I  believe  even  they  are  steadfast.  I  think 
they  can  and  will  be  led  on  to  seeing  the  light.  Also,  I 
think  Cronel  is  sincere." 

"Granted  that  he  is",  assented  Walton,  "but  mighty 
impractical.  I  only  hope  that  neither  you  nor  he,  Dan, 


46  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

ever  will  have  to  put  some  of  your  disciples  to  the  real 
test." 

A  thrice-repeated  gentle  knocking  on  the  door  caused 
Walton  to  arise  and  switch  on  the  lights.  In  response  to 
his  invitation  the  door  opened  admitting  a  head  covered 
with  thin,  red  hair,  a  hawklike  nose  over-hanging  a  very 
wide  mouth,  now  distorted  into  a  caricature  of  a  smile, 
florid  blue-veined  jowls  in  loose  folds  on  either  side  of  a 
lantern- jawed  face,  remarkably  deep-set  eyes, — all  poised 
on  a  long  neck  with  a  prominent  Adam's  apple. 

"I  intrude,  kind  Sirs?"  came  a  soft-spoken,  question- 
ing voice. 

"It's  Crunch",  remarked  Walton  in  a  tone  of  patient 
resignation.  He  resumed  his  place  at  the  fire,  moving 
his  chair  so  that  he  could  face  his  latest  visitor.  "Enter, 
Crunch."  Then ; — "  'You  come  most  carefully  upon  your 
hour.' ' 

Crunch  stepped  glidingly  forward,  closing  the  door 
behind  him.  His  actions  had  a  cat-like  quickness.  He 
was  tall  with  sloping  shoulders.  His  soft,  tieless  shirt 
went  incongruously  with  his  out-of-date  Prince  Albert 
suit  of  an  oddly  blended  gray  and  brown.  He  nervously 
fingered  his  battered  felt  hat,  rolling  and  unrolling  the 
brim.  His  feet  were  small,  unusually  so  for  a  man  of 
his  height,  and  even  the  coarse,  broken  shoes  he  wore 
did  not  conceal  the  fact  that  his  were  high,  well-modeled 
insteps. 

When  Walton,  remembering  Crunch's  Shakespearean 
hobby,  had  addressed  him  accordingly,  the  latter  had 
beamed  with  pleasure.  To  talk  Shakespeare,  to  make 
use  of  his  phrases,  discuss  his  heroes  and  analyze  his 
heroines,  to  probe  his  plots,  formed  Crunch's  chief  de- 
light. He  would  leave  any  other  engagement,  even  an 
invitation  to  have  a  drink,  to  gloat  over  some  choice 


47 


Shakespearean  bit,  some  philosophical  expression  taken 
from  the  works  of  the  only  pen-master  he  cared  to  know. 
Librarians  in  the  city's  public  library  came  to  have  a 
mild  hatred  for  him  because  of  his  persistent  inquiries 
for  books  on  Shakespearean  research.  Once  a  managing 
editor  had  asked  him,  in  the  days  when  Crunch  was  a 
steady,  high-class  copy-reader,  what  interpretation  he 
placed  on  a  certain  character  in  a  Shakespearean  com- 
edy seldom  portrayed,  and  Crunch  never  forgot  that.  He 
raised  his  hat  whenever  that  editor's  name  was  men- 
tioned. 

"Gentlemen",  Crunch  began  in  his  soft-pitched  voice, 
— "  'The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd, — It  drop- 
peth'— " 

Walton  interrupted  him  banteringly. 

"Oh  drop  it  Crunch.  How  much  do  you  want  to  bor- 
row tonight?" 

Crunch's  caricature  of  a  smile  widened  to  a  pro- 
nounced grin. 

"A  mere  bagatelle,  a  nothing,  a  trifle  to  tide  me  over 
till  my  ship  comes  in." 

"  'Words,  words,  words.'  You  mean  until  you  can 
hike  out  for  a  drink",  said  Walton. 

Crunch  drew  himself  up. 

"  That  you  have  wrong'd  me  doth  appear  in  this, — ' " 
he  began  with  whatever  sternness  he  could  command. 
"  'You  have  condemn'd  and  noted'  " — 

"That's  all  right,  Crunch",  Bradshaw  interposed 
soothingly,  and  then  added  with  assumed  mournfulness, 
"I  fear  that  you  are  suffering  from  an  itching  palm." 

Crunch  waved  an  arm  dramatically. 

"  'I  an  itching  palm ! 

You  know  that  you  are  Brutus  that  speak  this, 
Or  by  the  gods,  this  speech  were  else  your  last.'  " 


48  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Shut  up,  you  lean  and  hungry  Cassius",  Walton  re- 
marked unconcernedly.  "Don't  get  excited.  Sit  down 
and  tell  us  what  brings  you  here?" 

Crunch  seated  himself  gingerly  on  the  edge  of  a 
chair.  He  looked  directly  at  Walton  from  whom  he 
hoped  to  secure  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"Sir",  he  said,—"  'I  could  a  tale  unfold/  "— 

But  Walton  broke  in  abruptly  on  Crunch's  words. 

"Didn't  you  go  to  Direct  Actionist  headquarters  the 
other  night  and  get  thrown  out?  You've  got  to  cut  that 
kind  of  thing  from  your  repertoire,  Crunch." 

The  latter  sprang  to  his  feet,  declaiming; 

"  Tity  me  not ;  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing — To 
what  I  shall  unfold.'  'Marry,  Sir,  here's  my  drift;' 

That  unregenerate  hound  Vignon  did  mouth  much. 
Aye,  I  know  the  gentleman.  I  once  did  ask  him  for  a 
loan,  a  bagatelle,  a  mere  trifle,  nothing  to  speak  of,  but  he 
did  refuse  me  sourly.  And  yet  he  is  ever  ready  to  smile 
and  shake  my  hand.  Ah, — 'That  one  may  smile,  and 
smile,  and  be  a  villain;'. 

"I  knew  him  when — 'But  'tis  common  proof,  That 
lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder,  Whereto  the 
climber-upward  turns  his  face ;'  And  verily  he  has  come 
to — 'scorning  the  base  degrees  by  which  he  did  ascend:' 
What  I  desired  from  him  was  unworthy  a  gentleman's 
refusal.  But  to  continue.  This  same  vile  one  preaches 
of  Direct  Action  and  says  there  are  injustices.  And  yet, 
'  'tis  true ;  'tis  true  'tis  pity ;  And  pity  'tis  'tis  true :' 
Great  Caesar" — 

"Great-grandmother",  Walton  put  in.  "What  did  you 
say  that  made  them  throw  you  out?" 

Crunch  thrust  his  face  forward. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  49 

"I  spoke  those  truths  which  they  are  not  yet  prepared 
to  receive.  I  said  it  was  to  that  system  they  must  look, 
Sirs,  which  will  guarantee  the  common  ownership" — 

"Yes,  we  know  all  that,"  Walton  interrupted. 

Crunch  paused  a  moment  to  gaze  at  him  abstractedly, 
and  resumed. 

"Man  must  be  the  master  of  his  own  form  of  social 
organization,  consequently  become  lord  over  nature  and 
his  own  master;  become  in  the  word's  deepest  meaning, 
emancipated.  Then",  he  finished  more  quietly,  "they  re- 
quested me  to  desist,  and  when  I  persisted  they  had  a 
committee  throw  me  out." 

"You  see",  said  Walton  to  Bradshaw,  "how  they  get 
all  that  stuff  from  Cronel  and  how  glibly  they  learn  it 
too?" 

"You  wrong  me",  Crunch  protested.  "No  unkind 
dictate  of  Nature  has  come  as  a  sudden  calamity  to  de- 
prive me  of  the  power  to  reason." 

"No,  it  wasn't  done  suddenly,  I'll  admit",  said  Wal- 
ton, but  Crunch  ignored  the  remark  and  broke  into  a 
fierce  tirade. 

"Yet  when  reasoning  fails  to  achieve  result  there  are 
other  ways.  We  have  rights  and  we  demand  them.  May- 
hap Vignon  is  right.  If  need  be  'twere  better  to  eat  a 
meal  in  the  county  jail  or  in  military  camp  than  per- 
chance to  have  to  sneak  around  for  a  handout  at  a  free- 
lunch  institution." 

"Oh,  infernal  rot!",  ejaculated  Walton,  refilling  his 
pipe. 

"That's  sure  enough  Vignon's  talk",  added  Bradshaw. 

"Indeed  Vignon  is  a  vile  disturber,"  Crunch  hastily 
declared,  perceiving  he  perhaps  had  blundered  too  far. 


50  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"How  much  is  the  loan  tonight,  Crunch?  Name  the 
mere  bagatelle,  the  nothing,  the  whatever  it  is",  and 
Walton  reached  a  hand  into  his  pocket. 

"Ah  kind  Sir,  you  are  no  tight  purse",  answered  the 
smiling  Crunch.  "I  do  need  something  of  that  which  I 
sometimes  think  is — ' — mightiest  in  the  mightiest.' ' 

Deftly  he  caught  the  coin  which  Walton  tossed  to  him 
and  bowed.  "  "Most  humbly  do  I  take  my  leave,  my 
lord.' " 

"That  enough?"  asked  Walton. 
Crunch  grinned. 

"  '  'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide 

As  a  church  door;  but  'tis  enough,  'twill  serve:'." 

Then  as  Crunch  bowed  again  and  turned  to  go,  Brad- 
shaw  called  to  him  and  handed  him  a  quarter.  Crunch 
looked  at  the  coin  in  his  hand  and  then  intently  at  Brad- 
shaw. 

"  Twas  a  largesse  quite  unexpected,"  he  said  with 
quiet  emphasis.  "I  value  it  and  the  donor.  I  may  return 
the  generosity  many-fold  some  day".  And  then  he  went. 

Walton  switched  out  the  lights  again  and  resumed 
his  place. 

"Some  of  those  Direct  Actionists",  he  said,  "are 
surely  spreading  the  seed  of  their  discontent." 

Dan  smoked  on  for  a  few  moments  in  silence.  Then 
he  took  his  pipestem  from  his  mouth  and  blew  a  long 
tobacco  cloud. 

"Can  you  see  why  a  strong  hand  is  needed,  John? 
Don't  think  I'm  too  egotistical,  but  they  need, — in  fact, 
they  must  have  one  who  will  teach  them  and  lead  them 
right.  And  that  one  must  be  able  to  assume  a  leading 
place  if  necessary  so  that  he  can  help  them  the  more. 
Also  it  would  be  a  very  good  idea  for  him  to  attain  the 
proper  status  to  back  up  his  leadership." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


"That  is  to  say,  my  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den,  that  you 
propose,  for  instance,  to  be  ready  when  they  get  ready, 
if  they  do  to  send  you  to  the  legislature  or  even  higher 
and  that  you  will  arrange  if  you  can,  to  have  them  con- 
tinue following  you  as  their  teacher.  But  I  am  very 
dubious  as  to  the  result  of  your  optimism,  my  son.  You 
are  apt  to  find  that  you  can't  hold  your  element  any  more 
than  the  members  of  it  can  hold  themselves  together. 
Crowd  psychology  is  a  very  peculiar  proposition.  And 
how  fickle  is  the  crowd !" 

"You  don't  understand,  John",  said  Bradshaw,  smil- 
ing to  himself.  "You're  all  fed  up  on  the  other  side  of  the 
question.  I  know  my  people.  You  see,  I  stay  right  there 
with  them  to  lead  them  right." 

"And  Vignon?" 

"Pshaw — they'll  see  through  him!" 

"They  will  ?  Well,  don't  lose  track  of  him  while  pro- 
ceeding to  demonstrate  your  ability  to  carry  them  and 
yourself  through  to  any  certain  point.  You're  dealing 
with  a  very  complex  problem,  a  complex  idealism  and  a 
very  complex  lot.  As  Paddy  Skiff  would  say,  'Ye  kin  be 
kind  to  a  man  an'  he'll  luv  ye,  but  ye  kin  be  so  kind  to  a 
crowd  that  it'll  suspect  ye.' " 

"Which  reminds  me  that  Paddy  Skiff  has  good  need 
of  his  own  philosophic  consolations  these  days",  stated 
Dan. 

"How  so?"  demanded  Walton,  interested.  "Is  he  in 
trouble  ?  I  thought  that  peripatetic  philosophy  had  come 
to  take  the  place  of  his  wild-eyed  notions  of  the  years 
when  he  was  some  goer,  my  boy,  some  rough  and  ready 
direct  actionist  of  his  own." 

Bradshaw  laughed. 

"Well,  it's  all  according  to  how  you  look  at  it.  He's 
in  love." 


52  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Walton  sat  up  startled. 

"Love?"  he  asked  as  though  he  had  misunderstood. 

"Fact",  Bradshaw  nodded.    "Mrs.  Inez  Harrity." 

Hurrying  from  Walton's  rooms,  Crunch  betook  him- 
self to  Carty's,  and  if  he  was  dry  when  he  started,  he 
was  parched  when  he  arrived.  After  the  second  drink 
had  gone  burning  down  his  throat,  he  turned  to  look 
about  him.  Several  customers  were  at  tables  drinking 
or  playing  cards.  One  individual  stood  balanced  in  a 
corner  rolling  vacant  eyes  and  muttering  protests  to 
himself. 

At  the  rear  of  the  room,  a  fierce-eyed  man  was  stand- 
ing beside  a  table  beating  on  it  from  time  to  time  with  a 
brawny  fist  as  he  addressed  a  surly  group  seated  about 
before  him. 

"Yeh,  damn  'em,  no  more  bunk  I  say — no  more  bunk. 
The  day'll  come  when  we'll  show  'em  what  we  are."  He 
glowered  at  his  small  audience  and  the  veins  stood  out 
plainly  on  his  muscular  neck.  "Reason  with  'em?  To 
hell  with  'em.  We'll  give  'em  this",  and  he  motioned  as 
if  swinging  a  heavy  sledge  hammer  over  his  shoulder. 
"We'll  give  'em  a  dose  of  direc'  action.  Betcher  life  I'm 
not  afraid  to  talk  an'  I  kin  act  too.  They  got  to  keep  me 
at  work  'cause  I  go  down  into  places  none  a  you  guys  or 
anybody  like  you  would  go." 

Crunch  paid  his  check  and  moved  to  a  chair  near  the 
speaker. 

The  man  beside  the  table  continued.  "Listen  to  me, 
you  guys,  there's  a  bird  named  Bradshaw  is  goin'  to  find 
out  the  League  ain't  no  milk-sop  prop'sition.  The  time 
is  coming — an'  have  'nother  drink." 

Crunch  recognized  the  fierce-eyed  man  as  Vignon. 


CHAPTER  VII 
DANGER  SIGNS 

Impelled  by  the  chivalrous  motive  of  making  Millie 
forget  her  embarrassment  occasioned  by  the  unpleasant 
incident  in  which  Chris  had  figured  as  the  chief  actor, 
Dan,  en  route  to  the  first  special  meeting  of  the  League 
the  following  night,  dropped  in  at  Klemner's.  He  was 
received  with  taciturn  friendliness  by  the  shoemaker, 
and  when  Millie  heard  Dan  speaking  to  her  father  in  the 
shop,  she  hastily  straightened  her  hair,  tied  a  ribbon 
around  her  neck  and  took  the  grammar  from  its  place 
behind  the  clock  in  the  dining  room.  So  when  Bradshaw 
looked  in  through  the  doorway  he  saw  that  she  appar- 
ently was  deeply  engaged  in  study. 

With  seeming  artlessness,  she  looked  up  at  him  as  if 
taken  by  surprise  and  tried  to  appear  as  wan  as  so 
buxom  a  girl  possibly  could. 

"How's  the  studying  coming  on?"  asked  Dan  casu- 
ally as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"I  done  a  lot  of  hard  work  on  it  today",  she  replied, 
fingering  the  leaves  of  the  book.  "There's  some  things 
in  it  I'd  like  to  ask  you  about." 

Bradshaw  advanced  into  the  room  and  picked  up  the 
book. 

"Special  meeting  of  the  League  tonight  ain't  there?" 
Klemner  called  from  the  shop  where  he  was  busy  soak- 
ing  soles. 


54  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Dan  turned  his  head.  "Yes.  I'm  on  my  way  there 
now.  You  going?" 

"  Traps  I'd  ought  to",  returned  the  shoemaker,  "but 
I  guess  they  can  get  along  without  me  tonight.  There's 
a  lot  of  soreness,  I'm  told,  among  some  of  the  boys  about 
what  happened  at  the  Golden  West  mine." 

Millie  had  arisen  and  was  leaning  back  against  the 
table.  "What  happened  at  the  Golden  West?"  she  asked, 
for  Chris  worked  there. 

"A  couple  of  men  were  fired — two  of  the  sabotage 
bunch  I  think",  Dan  told  her.  "Vignon  and  his  crowd 
want  them  reinstated.  I  think  I'd  better  be  on  my  way." 

"Have  you  got  to  go  to  the  meeting?"  Millie  whis- 
pered softly. 

Dan  smiled.    "I  think  so",  he  replied. 

"But  I  wanted  you  to  explain  something  in  the  book 
tonight",  she  persisted,  looking  up  at  him. 

That  was  the  strongest  appeal  she  could  have  made 
to  him,  but  he  replied  banteringly.  "There  may  be  some 
excitement  at  the  League.  You  wouldn't  want  me  to 
miss  it,  would  you?" 

Millie  pouted.  "I  shouldn't  think  you'd  care  so  much 
for  the  old  League.  They  didn't  even  make  you  presi- 
dent of  it,  and  Dad  says  you're  the  brains  of  the  League." 

"That  was  very  kind  of  'Dad' ",  Dan  laughed.  And 
then,  because  he  did  not  care  to  go  into  a  futile  explana- 
tion of  how  it  was  that  Cronel,  chief  of  the  socialist 
scholastic  faction  had  been  chosen  president  by  way  of 
compromise  between  the  Direct  Action  contingent  which 
Vignon  headed,  and  the  conservative  element  directed  by 
Bradshaw,  he  added,  "Oh  I  couldn't  be  president  because 
I  like  to  do  a  lot  of  talking,  and  the  president  is  not  per- 
mitted to  say  much." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 55 

But  after  he  had  gone,  Millie  pursed  her  lips  and 
frowned.  "Old  League !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  spitefully 
stuck  the  grammar  back  of  the  clock. 

Her  father,  who  had  entered  the  room,  laid  a  hand 
on  her  shoulder  as  she  passed  him. 

"Millie  girlie",  he  said,  "listen  to  me",  and  he  looked 
into  her  eyes.  "Don't  get  foolish  notions." 

She  tossed  her  head.  "I  wish  Chris  would  come  and 
take  me  to  a  movie",  she  declared  emphatically. 

The  shoemaker  shook  his  head  and  went  back  to  soak- 
ing soles. 

The  girl,  alone  in  the  room,  stamped  her  foot  impa- 
tiently on  the  floor.  "I  know  if  I  asked  Chris  not  to  go 
to  any  old  League  meeting  he  wouldn't  go",  she  said 
querulously  to  herself.  "If  I  didn't  amount  to  enough 
in  it  to  be  the  president  I  wouldn't  go  to  the  old  thing." 
Then  she  laughed  and  began  to  hum  under  her  breath. 
"Paw,  where's  that  there  comic  supplement  I  had?"  she 
called  out  to  the  shoemaker. 

Bradshaw  arrived  before  the  meeting  was  called  to 
order  and  immediately  he  was  surrounded  by  a  group. 
In  the  midst  of  his  questionings,  Cronel  took  his  place 
back  of  the  pulpit-like  desk  on  the  low  platform  at  the 
head  of  the  hall,  peering  forward  through  the  smoke  haze 
as  he  convened  the  session. 

"Comrades,  the  meeting  will  come  to  order.  Please 
come  to  order",  he  repeated  several  times,  rapping  on 
the  desk  with  his  knuckles. 

When  a  fair  semblance  of  order  had  been  obtained, 
Cronel  explained  the  purpose  of  the  meeting. 

"Comrades",  he  began  in  halting  fashion,  for  he  was 
a  fluent  speaker  only  when  preaching  his  socialist  doc- 
trine, "this  meeting  has  been  called  for  by  twenty-five 
members  of  the  League,  enough  to  ask  for  a  special  ses- 


56  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

sion,  to — er — to  take  up  the  matter  of — er — the  sum- 
mary discharge  of  two  of  our  members  from  the  Golden 
West  mine  of  the  Norton  properties  and  it  is  claimed 
that  their  discharge  was  on  the  suspicion  of — er — of 
having  practiced  sabotage  in  the  mine.  They — er — I" — 

"Well  what  did  they  do?",  called  out  a  voice. 

"As  I  was  about  to  inform  you,  Comrades",  Cronel 
went  on,  "they  are  accused  of  having  twisted  off  a 
switch-lever  and  to  have  that  way  delayed  ore  trans- 
portation on  an  entire  level  for  three  hours." 

Several  laughs  came  from  the  body  of  the  hall. 

Cronel  rapped  on  his  desk. 

"Comrades,  what  is  your  pleasure?    What  is  to" — 

"We're  prop'ly  organized",  said  a  rough-looking 
member  rising,  "but  we  ain't  got  no  grievance  commit- 
tee. But  I  say  le's  find  out  'bout  this  thing.  Le's  see  if 
these  guys  kin  be  kicked  out  on  'spicion  that  way.". 

"Do  you  put  that  in  the  form  of  a  motion?"  asked 
Cronel  leaning  forward  over  the  desk  the  better  to  see  the 
speaker. 

"Naw,  I  don't  put  it  in  the  form  of  nawthin' ",  re- 
torted the  other  and  this  sally  again  brought  laughter, 
whereupon  he  sat  down  with  a  pleased  expression  on 
his  face. 

Two  other  members  stood  up. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  Cronel  decided  that  Com- 
rade Malley  should  have  the  floor. 

Malley  began  to  speak  but  the  other  member  disputed 
possession  of  the  floor  and  Cronel  admonished  the  inter- 
rupter. 

"All  right,  Cronel,  all  right",  acquiesced  the  one  who 
had  been  called  to  order.  "I'm  a  divide-up  guy,  too,  so 
let  him  have  th'  floor"  and  he  sat  down  but  as  his  remark 
was  somewhat  of  a  thrust  at  what  was  taken  to  be 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  57 

Crenel's  "divide-up"  theory,  that  caused  more  laughter. 

True  there  were  those  of  the  membership  ready  to 
laugh  at  almost  anything,  but  not  so  much  by  way  of  en- 
joyment as  in  derision. 

The  man  who  retained  possession  of  the  floor  then 
spoke.  He  was  a  Bradshaw  follower. 

"Mr.  President",  he  began,  "I  make  a  motion  that 
th'  investigatin'  of  this  matter  be  left  in  th'  han's  of  a 
committee  of  one,  an'  that  he  report  at  th'  meetin'  nex' 
Monday  night." 

"Is  there  a  second  to  the  motion?"  asked  Cronel. 

Several  voices  called  out,  "Secon'  th'  moshun." 

A  figure  near  the  door  arose  and  announced  with 
great  dignity. 

"I  desire  at  this  time,  my  brothers,  to  second  the 
proposed  motion." 

It  was  Crunch,  and  Cronel  tapped  on  the  desk  to  stop 
the  laughter  that  ensued. 

"Please  sit  down",  ordered  the  chairman.  "You're 
out  of  order." 

Other  cries  were  directed  at  Crunch. 

"Sit  down!"     "Throw  him  out!"    "Git  th'  axe!" 

Crunch  bowed  and  subsided. 

The  vote  being  called  for,  the  motion  prevailed  by 
reason  of  the  affirmative  shouts  being  louder. 

Someone  called  for  "Bradshaw."  The  call  was  re- 
peated from  all  parts  of  the  hall. 

"Comrade  Bradshaw  is  asked  to  speak",  said  Cronel, 
a  bit  bewildered  by  the  insistent  demands. 

Dan  arose  and  held  up  a  hand  to  quiet  the  demon- 
stration of  approval  that  followed*  He  indeed  would 
have  been  greatly  pleased  could  Walton  have  been  pres- 
ent to  witness  this  evidence  of  his  popularity. 


58  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Fellow  Workers",  he  began,  and  that  was  an  aus- 
picious start  for  the  term  he  used  in  addressing  them 
indeed  was  a  favorite  form  of  salutation  at  such  meet- 
ings, "I  am  rather  inclined  to  favor  a  grievance  com- 
mittee." 

"Young  fellah  Bradshaw!"  called  out  an  enthusiastic 
voice. 

"In  this  case",  Dan  continued,  "a  motion  having  been 
carried  for  an  investigating  committee  of  one,  per- 
haps— " 

"You're  th'  boy  fer  it",  came  an  interrupting  shout. 

"What  I  was  going  to  say",  Dan  went  on  heedless  of 
the  interruption,  "is  that  maybe  in  this  case  one  investi- 
gator would  do,  but  as  a  general  proposition,  perhaps  a 
regularly  established  or  maybe  I  should  say  a  permanent 
grievance  committee  would  be  found  more  satisfactory." 

While  he  was  still  standing  another  member  jumped 
up  and  waved  an  arm  to  attract  Cronel's  attention.  "I 
make  a  moshun  that  Dan  Bradshaw  do  th'  investigatin'  ", 
he  shouted,  which  was  greeted  with  much  applause  and 
was  seconded  with  a  volley. 

"It  has  been  moved  and  duly  seconded",  began  Cronel, 
but  he  was  vehemently  interrupted  by  a  chorus  of  ayes. 

"Comrade  Bradshaw  is  duly  elected  to  investigate  the 
case  at  issue",  he  announced. 

"I  thank  you,  Fellow  Workers,  for  the  trust  you  re- 
pose in  me",  said  Dan.  "I'll  look  into  the  matter."  His 
glance  swept  the  room  and  he  saw  Paddy  Skiff  and  Jack- 
son and  others  of  his  friends  looking  up  at  him.  "I'll  do 
my  best  to  do  the  square  thing  in  this.  Who  are  the  men 
involved,  Mr.  President?" 

Neither  Vignon  nor  any  of  his  coterie  had  evidenced 
a  disposition  to  take  part  in  the  discussion  nor  even  to 
vote,  but  at  this  point  "Red  Mike"  bellowed  out :  "Stan' 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  59 

up  youse  guys  an'  show  yerselves.  Let  'em  all  see  who's 
bin  made  the  victims  this  time." 

The  two  men  stood  up,  one  of  them  with  braggadocio 
manner  and  the  other  somewhat  sheepishly.  Bradshaw 
smiled  when  he  recognized  them  as  Wilkins  and  Snitch, 
and  he  knew  them  to  be  creatures  of  Vignon.  Also  the 
sight  of  Wilkins  and  Snitch  always  recalled  to  Dan  the 
time  he  had  so  emphatically  rebuked  them  on  the  road 
above  Carty's,  the  day  when  first  he  had  spoken  to — but 
then,  he  remembered  all  details  of  the  incident  very 
clearly. 

After  the  meeting  had  been  adjourned  and  the  mem- 
bership had  broken  up  into  groups,  some  to  remain  and 
smoke  while  they  talked  and  others  to  wend  their  way 
to  favorite  resorts,  Paddy  Skiff  joined  Bradshaw. 

"Dan,  I'm  anxious  to  talk  with  ye",  he  stated.  "Come 
with  me  to  Carty's." 

Seated  at  a  secluded  corner  table  in  Carty's,  Paddy 
began  cautiously  over  their  'alf  and  'alves.  "Wist  Dan, 
there's  somethin'  ye  should  know.  I  got  it  straight 
'cause  I  overheard  it  an'  no  one  knew  I  was  gettin'  it, 
d'ye  mind.  There's  a  divil  a  lot  of  trouble  brewin'  in 
that  Direc'  Action  crowd." 

"What  now,  Paddy?"  asked  Bradshaw  interestedly. 

"They're  sore  'bout  them  two  fellers  bein'  kicked  out 
of  the  Goldin  Wist,  as  I  have  no  doubts  them  two  bums 
should  a  bin.  An*  the  talk  I  was  after  hearin'  was 
ugly." 

Bradshaw  frowned.  "What  would  they  do?  How 
far  would  they  go?" 

Paddy  flapped  a  hand  at  him.  "Ach,  sure  an'  there's 
them  amongst  them  would  stop  at  nothin'.  Wist — take 
me  tip,  lad,  for  ye  know  my  feelin's  toward  ye — have  a 
care  for  yerself  too.  There's  them  amongst  them  has 


60  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

hard  feelin's  agin  ye  an'  I'm  after  thinkin'  sure  enough 
that  Vignon  is  back  of  the  whole  business." 

Bradshaw  laughed  shortly.  "Don't  get  nervous, 
Paddy.  That  gang  can't  scare  me.  I  don't  scare  worth 
a  hang." 

"Now,  now,  tut,  tut",  and  Paddy  tapped  on  the  table. 
"Don't  ye  get  too  brash,  me  lad.  I've  always  said  ye  was 
a  hot-head  'an  so  ye  are  in  some  ways,  but  yer  a  cliver 
hot-head  an'  ye  well  kin  have  sense  in  bein'  careful." 

"I  appreciate  your  concern  in  me,  Paddy,  and  your 
warning",  declared  Bradshaw  quickly.  "And  I  try  to 
keep  my  eyes  open  too." 

Paddy  took  hasty  survey  of  the  place  and  then  beck- 
oned to  Dan  with  his  head,  leaning  over  closer  to  talk 
to  him.  "Give  me  a  answer  to  a  question,  lad.  What's 
the  most  importint  stope,  would  ye  say,  in  the  Mont 
right  now?" 

"Why,  that  might  be  rather  hard  to  say",  replied 
Bradshaw  slowly.  "I  really  think  the  one  I'm  drilling  in 
is  as  important  as  any." 

"Well  now  don't  ye  know  fer  a  fact  that  the  biggest 
ore  strike  made  in  the  Mont  in  some  time  is  right  in  that 
stope  yer  workin'  in?"  Paddy  went  on. 

"Yes,  I  guess  that's  right". 

"Ah  ha!  an'  how  many  times  has  DeWitt  Nortin  bin 
there  to  inspect  it?" 

"He  hasn't  seen  it  yet  because  we've  been  getting  it 
in  shape  for  him." 

"When  will  he  see  it?" 

"Paddy,  you're  sure  some  cross-examiner",  Dan 
laughed.  "Why,  I  think  he'll  drop  in  on  us  most  any 
time  now." 

Paddy  spoke  slowly  and  impressively.  "Lad,  when- 
ever Nortin  comes  to  inspect  that  stope,  ye  keep  yer  eyes 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  61 

peeled.  Keep  'em  peeled — d'ye  mind  me?  Nortin  don't 
make  no  secret  of  inspectin'  his  properties.  That  man 
goes  any  place  any  time.  He  don't  know  fear." 

That  DeWitt  Norton,  chief  owner  of  the  Mont  and 
other  great  mining  properties  in  the  district,  was  a  fear- 
less man  was  a  fact  well  known  among  the  miners.  Nor- 
ton had  the  reputation  of  never  sending  a  man  into  any 
part  of  a  mine  in  which  he  was  interested  that  he  would 
not  go  into  himself.  He  kept  his  properties  up  to  the 
topnotch  in  matters  of  pay,  safety  and  justice. 

Paddy  looked  keenly  at  Bradshaw.  "I'm  after  havin' 
a  dom  good  hunch  that  there  is  those  would  like  to  see 
a  accident — mind  ye,  I  say  accident — get  Nortin  an'  at 
the  same  time  get  ye.  It's  jus*  'cause  they're  divils  at 
heart  an'  hell  raisers.  There's  some  of  'em  mighty  jeal- 
ous of  ye." 

Dan  put  a  hand  on  Paddy's  muscular  fist.  "Out  with 
it,  Paddy.  What  do  you  know  about  this  and  what  do 
you  mean?  Give  me  the  entire  proposition.  No  riddles 
now." 

"Maybe  there's  nothin'  to  get  hot-headed  about,  lad, 
but  it's  jus'  a  word  of  warnin'  an'  that's  good  even  fer 
the  wise.  I  knock  aroun'  some  meself  an'  I  pick  up  a 
word  here  an'  a  word  there  an'  I  still  kin  put  one  an'  one 
together."  He  looked  squarely  into  Dan's  eyes.  "Why 
lad,  dom  ye,  can't  ye  see  I've  the  feelin'  of  a  father  fer 
his  son  fer  ye,  an*  if  I  got  suspicions  that  may  help  save 
ye  I'm  goin'  to  tell  'em  to  ye." 

"And  I  appreciate  that  more  than  I  can  tell  you, 
Paddy",  declared  Bradshaw.  "But  even  admitting  that 
some  of  them  might  try  to  frame  up  a  way  to  get  Nor- 
ton— how  could  they  get  me?" 

"Lad,  lad,  use  yer  wits",  protested  Paddy.  "If  Nor- 
tin ever  was  hurted  near  where  ye  are  workin'  you  know 


62  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

what  that  might  mean  to  ye.  No  doubt  ye  would  be  the 
one  most  blamed.  An'  if  they  could  do  worse  to  him,  bad 
cess  to  their  bloody  hearts,  they'd  like  to  fix  it  so's  ye 
would  git  yours." 

"And  why?" 

"Yer  in  somebody's  way." 

"I'll  be  on  my  guard  all  right,  Paddy  Skiff",  said 
Bradshaw,  and  there  was  a  stronger  set  to  his  jaw. 

"An'  remember,  lad,  they'll  not  work  their  game 
openly.  Oh  no,  not  them.  You  kin  bet  yer  sweet  life 
that  if  anything  happens  to  Nortin,  'twill  look  like  a 
accident — so  any  time  Nortin  inspects  the  new  stope  yer 
in,  keep  yer  dom  eyes  open." 

Vignon  and  some  of  his  crowd  entered.  Dan  and 
Paddy  settled  back  in  their  chairs.  Dan  called  the  floor 
boy  over  and  ordered  an  'alf-and-'alf  for  Paddy  and  him- 
self, whereupon  the  floor  boy,  swaggering  to  the  bar  com- 
manded the  bartender  loudly:  "Draw  two — black  an' 
brown !" 

Later,  when  Bradshaw  and  Paddy  were  about  to 
leave  Carty's  place,  Paddy  put  a  hand  on  Dan's  shoulder. 
"A  moment,  lad — come  over  here  a  minute  till  I  show  ye 
somethin'  an'  ask  yer  advice",  he  said  somewhat  embar- 
rassedly  drawing  Dan  to  the  cigar  case  and  taking  a 
sheet  of  paper  from  an  inner  pocket  of  his  coat.  "See  if 
ye  think  it  reads  all  right",  he  said,  handing  the  paper 
to  Dan. 

"Why,  it's  a  poem!"  exclaimed  Bradshaw,  looking  up 
in  surprise. 

"Of  course  it's  a  pome",  asserted  Paddy  with  empha- 
sis. "Did  ye  think  now  'twas  a  snake?  What  I  do  be 
wantin'  to  know  is — do  it  read  all  right?" 

Dan  regarded  the  paper  again. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  63 

"It  has  a  very  touching  sentiment",  he  decreed  finally, 
"even  if  it  does  make  'love'  rhyme  with  'tough'.  Are  you 
going  to  send  it  to  her?"  he  questioned  dryly. 

Paddy  took  the  paper  and  carefully  restored  it  to  his 
inner  pocket. 

"I  wisht  I  had  the  nerve",  sighed  the  old  ex-dyna- 
miter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  GOPHER  HOLE 

As  Bradshaw  had  told  Paddy  Skiff,  he  indeed  was  not 
subject  to  groundless  fears,  but  he  knew  that  Paddy  was 
not  given  to  the  repeating  of  idle  rumors.  Also  he  reas- 
oned that  Paddy's  past  experiences  enabled  that  quon- 
dam "goer",  as  Walton  had  referred  to  him,  to  judge 
when  there  was  mischief  under  way  among  those  of  the 
ilk  designated  by  Paddy  as  "divils"  and  "hell  raisers". 
So  Bradshaw  determined  to  make  good  his  statement  to 
Paddy  about  keeping  his  eyes  wide  open  for  any  contin- 
gency of  a  serious  character  that  might  present  itself. 
He  did  not  propose  to  stand  idly  by  and  permit  injury  to 
come  to  DeWitt  Norton  nor  any  other  man  and  he  cer- 
tainly had  no  intention  of  letting  himself  be  disposed  of 
to  suit  the  purposes  of  "Red  Mike"  Vignon.  For  Dan 
felt  morally  certain  that  Vignon  was  back  of  whatever 
danger  might  be  threatening. 

He  pondered  such  thoughts  next  day  when  he  was  at 
work  in  the  mine,  and  he  also  took  note  of  the  fact  that 
when  his  shift  ended,  the  stope  in  which  he  worked  and 
in  which  the  big  ore  strike  had  been  made  was  in  fit 
condition  for  inspection  purposes.  Therefore,  he  judged 
that  the  next  day  likely  enough  would  bring  De  Witt 
Norton  to  that  part  of  the  workings. 

Nor  was  he  mistaken  in  his  conjecture. 

Dan  was  still  in  the  Dry  the  next  morning  making 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  65 

preparations  to  go  underground  when  the  shift  boss, 
Smith,  approached  him. 

"Hang  'round  th'  station  when  ye  go  down",  he  said 
to  Bradshaw,  "an*  when  I  come  down  with  Mr.  Norton 
an'  his  party,  be  ready  to  take  us  to  the  new  stope  an' 
explain  whatever  is  asked  ye  'bout  it." 

Accordingly,  when  Dan  reached  the  "1800"  of  which 
the  stope  was  a  part,  he  did  as  he  had  been  instructed 
and  remained  at  the  station,  seating  himself  on  a  pile 
of  timbers  at  one  side  away  from  the  rush  of  ore  car 
traffic  on  the  turn-sheet,  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  Nor- 
ton party. 

Bradshaw  never  had  been  afforded  opportunity  to 
speak  to  Norton.  In  fact,  the  only  sight  he  ever  had  ob- 
tained of  him  was  when  he  saw  the  mine  owner  proceed- 
ing along  one  of  the  drifts  clad  in  typical  "digging" 
clothes  with  battered  canvas  hat  pulled  well  down  on  his 
head.  Bradshaw  would  not  have  known  Norton  had  he 
met  him  on  top,  for  men  down  in  a  mine  look  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  way  they  do  on  the  surface.  Like  the 
rest  of  the  citizenry,  Dan  knew  the  general  facts  re- 
garding DeWitt  Norton.  Dan  knew  that  Norton  was  a 
mining  man  of  good  theoretical  education  and  much  prac- 
tical experience,  and  at  the  age  of  thirty-six  was  already 
a  power  of  increasing  magnitude  among  the  important 
western  mining  interests;  that  he  and  his  sister  resided 
in  a  handsome  house  on  the  western  edge  of  the  city, — a 
stately,  roomy  house,  set  in  the  midst  of  extensive 
grounds ;  that,  generally,  the  Nortons  spent  their  winters 
traveling  or  in  the  East  where  Norton  had  other  inter- 
ests; and  finally  that  Norton  was  a  keen  businessman, 
fearless,  generous  in  any  good  cause,  personally  modest 
and  exceedingly  democratic. 


66  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Perty  soft  fer  you,  young  feller",  the  good-natured 
Jackson  called  to  Dan  as  he  deftly  whirled  a  car  around 
at  the  end  of  the  tracks  and  rushed  it  across  the  turn- 
sheet.  "What  did  you  do, — buy  this  mine  this  mornin'  ?" 

Then,  as  he  pushed  the  empty  car  to  one  side,  he  came 
over  to  Dan  and  stood  before  him,  feet  planted  widely 
apart. 

"Say  Dan",  he  said  in  lowered  tone,  "looks  to  me  as 
if  that  Vignon  bunch  is  gittin'  too  damn  strong."  He 
pushed  his  cap  back  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead.  "They'd  like  to  git  my  goat  too  if  they  could. 
Know  why?" 

"Why?"  asked  Bradshaw,  his  eyes  narrowing. 

"  'Cause  I'm  fer  Dan  Bradshaw,  that's  why.  Keep 
mum  'bout  this,  Dan,  an'  keep  on  the  lookout." 

Then  Jackson  went  back  to  his  work,  as  several  other 
men  came  to  the  station  from  the  main  drift. 

A  frown  contracted  Bradshaw's  eyebrows. 

"Seems  as  if  all  my  friends  want  to  warn  me,"  he 
muttered  to  himself.  "I'm  going  to  have  to  hand  it  to 
somebody  soon.  Somebody's  looking  for  trouble  and 
somebody's  going  to  get  it  and  get  it  good." 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  the  swiftly  descending 
cage  came  to  him,  and  as  Dan  arose  there  was  a  grind- 
ing noise,  whereupon  the  station-tender  jumped  forward 
to  open  the  big,  double  iron  doors  and  then  unbar  the 
safety-doors  of  the  cage  hanging  in  the  shaft  opposite 
the  level.  Several  figures  in  "digging"  clothes  stepped 
off  on  the  turn-sheet;  DeWitt  Norton  among  them. 

Bradshaw  went  forward  to  meet  the  party  and  the 
shift  boss  in  a  few  words  explained  to  him  the  proced- 
ure desired.  Then,  with  the  shift  boss  and  Dan  leading 
the  way,  Norton,  the  superintendent  and  the  foreman  of 
the  Mont,  followed  closely  along  the  main  drift  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  67 

through  cross-cuts  and  other  drifts  that  formed  the  way 
that  would  take  them  to  where  they  could  climb  to  the 
stope  which  Norton  was  most  desirous  of  inspecting. 

Now  and  again  men  passed  them,  coming  and  going, 
or  they  had  to  give  way  to  ore  trains  hurrying  back  and 
forth,  so  that  there  were  others  in  that  part  of  the  mine 
who  knew  of  the  inspecting  party's  progress. 

Nor  did  Norton  and  those  with  him  go  directly  to  the 
stope  wherein  the  new  ore  strike  had  been  made,  but  they 
paused  at  various  places  along  the  route  to  examine 
workings  or  to  have  new  work  considered. 

In  due  time  they  came  to  the  ladder  that  led  up 
through  the  manway  to  the  first  floor  of  the  stope, — the 
objective  of  that  morning's  careful  inspection. 

Bradshaw,  all  along  the  walk  and  loiterings,  had  kept 
a  sharp  lookout.  From  the  very  moment  that  he  had 
joined  the  Norton  party,  he  had  determined  to  leave 
nothing  undone  that  would  enable  him  to  keep  watch  on 
every  possibility  that  might  be  resultant  in  an  accident. 

His  mining  experience  made  him  appreciate  the  fact 
that  there  were  many  ways  in  which  seeming  accidents 
could  be  brought  about  and  with  the  chance  of  serious 
results. 

There  was  the  chance  of  drill-steels  being  dropped 
down  manways ;  of  loose  lagging  being  left  so  as  to  cause 
a  fall ;  of  a  live-wire  sagging  so  as  to  electrocute  the  un- 
wary one ;  runaway  ore  cars  to  be  guarded  against. 

The  mere  fact  of  reaching  a  stope  by  no  means  meant 
safety.  In  climbing  up  through  manways  to  stope  floors 
due  care  was  necessary,  as  Bradshaw  well  knew. 

A  rock  and  timber-littered  stope  floor  might  trip  a 
man  into  an  open  manway  or  chute  to  his  death.  There 
were  dangers  from  improper  timbering  and  from  blasted 
ore  faces  and  roofs  not  properly  barred  down — Indeed, 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


from  many  other  conditions  that  lack  of  care  or  disre- 
gard for  safety  or, — so  the  thought  flashed  through 
Bradshaw's  mind, — deliberate  intent,  might  cause. 

And  thinking  of  these  possible  contingencies,  Brad- 
shaw  not  only  flashed  the  light  of  his  carbide  lamp  along 
the  floor  of  whatever  drift  or  cross-cut  they  traversed, 
but  from  side  to  side  and  even  along  the  top. 

When  they  came  to  the  ladder  up  which  they  were  to 
go  to  the  stope  floor  where  he  had  last  been  drilling, 
Bradshaw  went  up  first,  with  Smith  following.  Then 
came  Norton,  and  after  him  the  other  two  officials. 

Suddenly  Bradshaw  stopped  short — so  short  that  his 
legs  acted  as  a  buffer  for  Smith's  head.  With  nerves 
keenly  alert,  Dan  had  been  thoroughly  alive  to  every  de- 
tail as  he  started  up  the  ladder  and  when  he  stopped  so 
abruptly  it  was  because  of  an  unmistakable  warning  he 
had  received. 

"Go  back",  he  called  down,  and  there  was  that  in  his 
voice  that  made  the  others  obey  without  question.  Men 
who  know  what  work  underground  means  act  promptly 
in  emergencies,  if  they  would  save  themselves  from 
danger.  Otherwise  they  may  pay  a  costly  penalty. 

Reaching  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  that  footed  in  the 
drift,  Bradshaw  urged  the  others  to  hasten  along  for 
some  distance.  He  led  them  into  a  cross-cut  and  there 
he  paused.  And  in  that  moment  they  heard  the  rumble 
of  an  explosion. 

"Was  that  up  in  the  stope  ?"  asked  Norton  sharply. 

"It  was",  answered  Bradshaw.  "Somebody  touched 
off  a  'gopher-hole'  ".  By  that  he  meant  that  a  drill  hole 
shorter  than  those  usually  bored,  had  been  loaded  with 
its  dynamite  charge,  fuse  inserted,  primed  and  fired. 

They  waited  there  a  few  minutes  longer. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  69 

"Watson",  said  Norton  to  his  superintendent  crisply, 
"I  think  you  and  Smith  had  better  stay  right  here  and 
wait  for  any  more  evidences  of  blasting  up  there,  if 
there  are  any.  The  rest  of  us  will  go  on  and  take  a  look 
at  a  few  other  things.  Keep  an  eye  on  that  stope  man- 
way,  too.  And  this  'gopher-hole'  business  is  to  be  kept 
under  our  hats." 

In  the  half  hour  or  so  that  followed,  Dan  noticed 
that  the  affair  of  the  stope  had  in  no  wise  disconcerted 
DeWitt  Norton.  As  they  proceeded  from  place  to  place 
along  the  level,  Norton  spoke  of  various  affairs  pertinent 
to  what  they  were  viewing,  but  never  once  of  the  'gopher- 
hole'  explosion.  Dan  formed  a  real  admiration  for  the 
man. 

"Nothing  more  doing",  the  superintendent  informed 
Norton  when  he  and  his  companions  returned  to  where 
they  had  left  Watson  and  Smith.  "I  think  the  smoke  has 
cleared  away.  Want  to  go  back  up  there?" 

"Of  course",  replied  Norton  promptly. 

And  back  they  went. 

"It  didn't  tear  down  much",  remarked  Norton  as  he 
went  forward  to  examine  the  face  of  the  stope,  first  tak- 
ing good  care  to  see  that  no  loosened  rock  was  depending 
from  the  roof  beyond  the  timbering.  "It  couldn't  have 
been  a  heavy  charge." 

Then  he  went  on  with  his  inspecting,  from  time  to 
time  asking  Bradshaw  as  to  the  drilling  conditions  and 
other  matters  pertaining  to  the  stope. 

At  the  station,  after  Watson  had  signaled  for  the 
cage,  Norton  turned  to  Dan. 

"Bradshaw",  he  said,  and  it  was  the  first  time  Nor- 
ton had  spoken  Dan's  name,  though  the  latter  was  well 
aware  that  Norton  had  learned  all  about  him,  before 
coming  underground  that  morning.  That  was  Norton's 


70  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

way.  "I  would  like  to  see  you  at  my  office  as  close  to  four 
o'clock  this  afternoon  as  possible.  Smith",  Norton 
turned  to  the  shift  boss,  "Bradshaw  can  report  off  work 
for  the  day  at  noon." 

***** 

When  the  twelve  o'clock  whistles  were  blowing, 
Bradshaw  came  on  top  and  went  to  the  Dry  to  change 
his  attire.  To  the  surprise  of  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity  he  took 
his  noon  lunch  at  the  boarding  house,  and  Paddy  Skiff, 
who  was  on  the  "four  to  twelve"  shift,  also  expressed 
wonder  at  seeing  Dan. 

As  soon  as  lunch  was  over  Paddy  called  Bradshaw 
aside.  "Anything  wrong,  lad?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"Not  a  thing,  Paddy",  Dan  reassured  him.  "Jus1 
have  to  attend  to  something  down  town  this  afternoon." 

"Well  whatever  'tis,"  went  on  Paddy,  "I'm  glad  to 
see  ye,  fer  'tis  good  news  I  hav'  fer  ye."  He  clutched 
Dan  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  even  closer.  "Wist!  I 
give  the  pome  to  the  Missus  an' ",  he  paused  to  regard 
Dan  with  twinkling  eyes,  "she  sure  give  me  incourage- 
ment.  She  studied  it  an'  said,  'G'wan  ye  ol'  fool' — but 
lad,  lad,  she  was  smilin'  whin  she  said  it." 
***** 

On  his  way  to  the  Monticana  building  where  were 
located  the  general  and  private  offices  of  the  mining 
properties  in  which  DeWitt  Norton  was  concerned,  Dan 
meditated  on  the  sudden  turn  of  Fate  that  had  brought 
him  to  the  emphatic  notice  of  Norton,  so  powerful  a  fig- 
ure in  the  mining  world;  a  man  of  strong  personality 
and  ideas.  If  such  a  man  and  the  men  whom  Bradshaw 
accounted  his  own  followers  could  be  brought  in  ever 
closer  touch,  what  might  not  come  of  it?  Would  not 
such  a  consummation  hasten  an  evolution  of  wonderful 
good  in  itself  and  of  immeasurable  benefit  as  a  precept 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  71 

and  precedent?  And  for  what  part  he  might  play  in 
such  an  event,  Bradshaw  knew  he  might  himself  attain 
to  a  place  enabling  him  the  more  to  put  into  practice 
those  plans  and  theories  which  he  conscientiously  held 
to  be  entirely  altruistic  in  their  purpose.  Thus  ran  his 
thoughts  and  they  were  not  unpleasant — on  the  con- 
trary, they  thrilled  him  to  the  very  core. 

A  block  away  from  the  Monticana  building  Dan  en- 
countered Walton. 

"By  the  Great  Horn  Spoon!",  exclaimed  the  news- 
paperman. "As 'I  live  and  breathe,  my  young  leader  of 
men,  my" — 

"All  of  that  and  more",  said  Dan  in  a  similar  tone  of 
joking  friendliness.  "I  had  planned  on  seeing  you  any- 
how this  evening." 

"And  I  was  intending  to  send  word  to  the  far-famed 
hostelry  of  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity  asking  you  to  come",  Wal- 
ton informed  him.  "I  wanted  to  see  you,  Dan,  because 
I'm  going  away  for  awhile  and  I  thought  you  might  be 
willing  to  inform  me  of  California  localities.  Inciden- 
tally, how  comes  it  you're  off  shift  so  early?" 

"One  thing  at  a  time,  friend",  said  Bradshaw.  "First 
of  all — how  comes  it  you're  going  away? — and  secondly, 
I'm  on  my  way  to  the  Monticana  building.  Mr.  DeWitt 
Norton  and  I  are  to  have  a  consultation/' 

"Indeed?"  Walton  elevated  his  eyebrows.  Then  he 
spoke  in  more  serious  tone.  "Far  be  it  from  me,  Dan, 
to  pry  into  your  private  affairs, — but  if  it's  a  fair  ques- 
tion might  I  ask  whether  you  are  going  up  to  see  Norton 
on  League  affairs  or  otherwise?" 

Dan  smiled  and  placed  a  hand  on  Walton's  shoulder. 

"Your  question  is  perfectly  fair",  he  said.  "In  fact, 
John,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I  am  unaware  of  what 
it's  to  be  for,  Norton  merely  asked  me  to  see  him." 


72  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Brave  boy",  exclaimed  Walton  resuming  his  jocular 
tone,  "and  you're  going  up  there  in  broad  daylight. 
What  would  the  proletariat  ensemble  think  of  it  if  it 
knew  that?" 

"Maybe  envy  me.    Who  knows  ?" 

"Maybe  suspect  you,  you  mean.  The  trouble  with 
the  proletariat,  my  son,  is  that  it  is  so  infernally  prone 
to  be  suspicious  of  what  it  can't  understand.  I'll  expect 
you  at  the  rooms  tonight,  sure." 

***** 

In  the  reception  room  of  the  Mont's  general  office, 
Bradshaw  went  through  the  formality  of  sending  in  his 
name  before  being  ushered  into  the  inner  precincts,  only 
in  his  case,  progress  to  the  private  office  of  DeWitt  Nor- 
ton was  made  with  far  greater  ease  and  promptness 
than  was  the  usual  rule  with  visitors  there. 

Dan  had  spent  several  hours  with  Norton  under- 
ground that  very  morning  and  yet,  at  four  o'clock  that 
afternoon,  in  Norton's  private  office  Dan  looked  on  a  man 
who  seemed  an  utter  stranger  to  him — so  great  is  the 
effect  of  clothes  and  environment.  He  now  saw  stand- 
ing beside  the  room's  big,  flat-topped  mahogany  desk  a 
distinguished-looking  man  of  medium  height,  muscularly 
built,  with  a  strongly  modeled  and  well-featured  face, 
keen  but  friendly  eyes  and  wavy  hair  that  was  graying 
at  the  temples.  Such  was  DeWitt  Norton  at  thirty-six. 

"Take  a  chair,  Mr.  Bradshaw",  he  invited  courte- 
ously, and  as  Dan  sat  down,  Norton  took  his  place  in  his 
swivel-chair  behind  his  desk.  "By  the  way,  do  you 
smoke?"  he  asked  opening  a  desk  drawer  and  taking  out 
a  box  of  cigars  which  he  opened  and  extended  hospitably 
towards  Dan. 

"Occasionally,  thank  you",  answered  Bradshaw,  help- 
ing himself  to  a  cigar, 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  73 

Norton  struck  a  match  and  handed  it  to  Dan. 

"Thanks",  said  the  miner. 

Dan  liked  the  "meet-you-like-a-man-and-treat-you- 
like-a-man"  attitude  of  Norton.  It  was  in  keeping  with 
descriptions  he  had  heard  of  the  mine  owner's  manner- 
isms. Bradshaw  had  entered  the  office  determined,  at 
least  subconsciously,  to  resent  any  patting-on-the-shoul- 
der  condescension  and  the  entire  absence  of  anything  like 
that  he  speedily  observed.  Covertly  Dan  studied  Nor- 
ton's face,  while  the  latter  lighted  his  cigar,  and  he  had 
readily  to  admit  that  Norton  appeared  to  be  very  much 
of  a  man's  man. 

"Bradshaw",  began  Norton  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
"what  mining  experience  have  you  had?" 

"What  I've  learned  mucking  and  machine  drilling  in 
the  Mont",  answered  Dan. 

"You  have  some  idea  of  the  character  of  ore,  haven't 
you?" 

"Oh,  to  some  extent.  A  man  naturally  picks  up  more 
or  less  of  such  information  when  he  works  in  a  mine." 
Bradshaw  smiled.  "I  think  I  could  distinguish  ore  from 
mere  country  rock  underground  or  on  the  surface." 

Norton  puffed  at  his  cigar  for  a  moment  or  two  and 
then  put  it  down  on  an  ash-tray  and  looked  steadfastly 
at  Bradshaw. 

"That  is  to  say,  you  could  tell  good  from  bad  ore." 

"Sometimes  an  assay, — a  test — is  needed  even  for 
the  most  learned  in  that  respect",  said  Dan  steadily, 
quickly  catching  the  purport  of  Norton's  words.  "The 
most  unpromising  appearing  might  sometimes  assay  sur- 
prisingly good — ore,  I  mean." 

"Have  you  ever  tried  assaying?"  asked  Norton. 
Bradshaw  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth. 
"Not  ore",  he  responded. 


74  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Men?"  asked  Norton  with  a  smile. 

"Yes",  answered  Bradshaw  evenly.  "I  think  I  usu- 
ally get  good  returns  in  assaying  men  whom  I  think 
worth  while." 

"An  ability,  I  always  have  thought,  that  comes  in 
very  well  in  the  mining  game",  said  Norton  adroitly 
turning  the  trend  of  the  talk.  "And  now  let  me  say  most 
emphatically",  the  mine  owner  continued,  "that  you  cer- 
tainly acted  very  quickly  in  an  emergency  this  morning. 
I  know  that  most  men  of  mining  experience  ought  to  be 
able  to  smell  a  burning  fuse  and  know  that  blasting  is 
threatened.  I  can  detect  that  kind  of  danger  myself 
rather  quickly  and  I  caught  the  fuse  smoke  from  the 
stope  this  morning  an  instant  after  you  did,  but  was 
very  impressed  with  your  presence  of  mind." 

"Thank  you",  Dan  said  quietly.  "It  was  a  case  of 
move  quickly,  I  thought." 

"You  thought  right",  declared  the  other.  "You  know 
and  I  know  that  fuses  are  not  lighted  until  the  shift  is 
off  and  that  due  warning  is  given  in  all  directions.  Now 
somebody  fixed  up  that  'gopher-hole'  at  a  time  that  was 
in  violation  of  the  rules.  Somebody  set  off  a  timed  fuse 
and  got  away  just  before  we  reached  the  first  ladder  of 
the  stope.  No  warnings,  of  course,  were  given.  All 
these  things  were  in  direct  violation  of  our  strictest 
rules.  We  both  know  that.  You  know,  Bradshaw,  that 
the  proposition  is  being  investigated,  but  quietly."  He 
leaned  forward  and  spoke  tersely  while  gaze  met  gaze 
unwaveringly.  "Who  was  wanted — you  or  me,  or  both 
of  us?" 

Bradshaw's  jaw  set. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me?"  he  questioned  sharply. 

"Pardon  me",  said  Norton  again  leaning  back  in  his 
chair.  "Please  do  not  misunderstand  me,  but  you  must 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  75 

realize  that  I  as  well  as  you  stood  to  be  injured,  though 
sometimes  those  'gopher-shots'  are  not  so  very  heavy." 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Norton,"  Dan  hastened  to  say,  for 
like  most  quick-tempered  men,  Bradshaw  as  quickly  re- 
gretted any  undue  hastiness,  "I  do  not  mean  to  mis- 
understand you  and  I  quite  realize  the  gravity  of  the 
affair.  Whoever  planted  that  shot  and  whoever  they 
wanted  to  get,  the  fact  remains  that  we  were  the  ones 
who  almost  got  it,  and  that,  I  should  imagine,  is  sufficient 
basis  for  the  most  rigid  investigation.  If  I  ever  find  out 
who  did  it,  believe  me  sincerely  I'll  remove  the  necessity 
of  any  further  investigating  on  your  part." 

Norton  smiled.  He  had  been  told  that  Bradshaw  was 
a  good  talker. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you  Bradshaw,"  Norton  went  on 
after  a  moment,  "that  Smith  is  to  be  transferred  to  an- 
other part  of  the  mine  and  you  are  going  on  as  shift  boss 
on  that  level  if  you  want  to." 

The  offer  of  promotion  very  naturally  pleased  Brad- 
shaw, but  at  the  same  time  he  thought  of  how  such  a 
change  in  his  status  might  effect  the  opinion  of  those  he 
deemed  his  followers  toward  him. 

"If" — ,  he  began,  but  Norton  interrupted. 

"Permit  me  just  this",  said  the  mine  owner,  and  he 
looked  directly  at  Dan,  " — you  must  not  regard  any  ad- 
vancement as  a  reward  for  I  think  I  can  see  that  you 
would  not  accept  it  on  that  basis." 

"You're  right,  Mr.  Norton",  said  Bradshaw.  "I  will 
be  candid  with  you.  If  there  was  any  merit  in  what  I 
did  this  morning  I  was  actuated  as  much  by  a  desire  for 
my  own  safety  as  that  of  all  the  others  with  me.  I 
couldn't  accept  any  advancement  merely  because  of 
that." 


76  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"And  I'll  be  frank  with  you  Bradshaw",  Norton  re- 
plied. "Your  mining  experience  has  been  somewhat 
limited  thus  far,  but  you  are  observant  and  learn  quickly. 
I  want  men  in  official  positions  in  my  properties  who 
think  fast  and  act  right  at  the  right  time  because  that 
makes  for  general  efficiency.  I  am  in  a  way  a  manufac- 
turer of  a  certain  commodity  and  the  better  my  working 
force,  the  better  for  the  industry  and  thus  for  all  con- 
cerned. That  should  remove  your  objection,  I  think." 

Dan  got  up. 

"I've  tried  to  do  my  best  while  working  for  you,  Mr. 
Norton",  he  said,  "and",  again  he  smiled,  "I'll  try  to  de- 
liver the  goods  in  future." 

Norton  stood  up  and  moved  over  to  him.  "Report  to 
Mr.  Watson,"  he  said,  "and  good  luck,  Bradshaw."  He 
held  out  his  hand.  "Keep  your  eyes  open." 

"Yes,  I've  been  told  that  often  since  I  began  mining", 
remarked  Dan,  as  he  shook  hands  with  his  employer. 
***** 

Walton  gave  Dan  a  hearty  welcome  when  the  latter 
reached  the  newspaperman's  rooms  that  evening. 

"Dan  my  lad,  I'm  off  to  California  next  week.  Doc- 
tor says  I'd  better  go  for  a  few  weeks  while  the  going's 
good  and  get  the  remnants  of  that  bad  cold  out  of  my 
system.  Some  tough  campaigns  coming  up  next  spring 
and  I  want  to  be  fit  to  handle  them." 

"Then  you  can  consider  that  you're  headed  for  that 
part  of  California  where  my  aunt  and  uncle  are",  de- 
clared Dan.  And  he  took  up  his  argument  to  such  effect 
that  Walton  agreed  to  spend  at  least  a  portion  of  his  so- 
journ there. 

Then  the  miner  told  his  friend  of  the  position  of 
shift  boss  tendered  him,  but  he  did  not  inform  Walton  of 
what  had  brought  him  to  such  favorable  notice  because 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  77 

he  considered  that  Norton  had  exacted  a  promise  of 
secrecy  from  those  who  knew  of  the  premature  explosion. 

"And  so  you  are  to  be  a  shift  boss.  Good !"  Walton 
congratulated  him. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  take  it  or  not",  said 
Dan  slowly. 

"Some  more  of  your  proletarian  scruples",  remarked 
the  newspaperman.  "Forget  that  stuff  for  a  little  while. 
Why  man,  surely  it  is  a  fact  that  even  with  the  prole- 
tariat crowd  nothing  succeeds  like  success." 

"If  I  thought  it  would  make  them  listen  more  to  me, 
I'd  take  it",  was  Bradshaw's  statement. 

"Well,  at  any  rate  you  must  see  that  in  such  a  posi- 
tion you  could  be  of  more  material  aid  in  various  ways 
to  your  proletarian  followers",  Walton  reached  for  his 
pipe. 

"Coming  right  down  to  facts",  said  Bradshaw,  "it  is 
just  that  very  consideration  that  induces  me  to  take  it." 

"Dan,  you're  a  wonder",  declared  Walton  settling 
back  comfortably  and  regarding  Bradshaw  with  an 
amused  look.  "Gad,  boy,  you're  a  comer,  but  you  ought 
to  broaden  your  scope.  Don't  get  your  perspective  from 
only  one  direction.  Why  won't  you  come  with  me  into 
circles  you  would  enjoy?  Doing  that  once  in  awhile 
wouldn't  lessen  the  strength  of  your  principles  any." 

"Because,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  John",  replied 
Bradshaw,  "I  wouldn't  fit  in  logically  at  this  time.  You 
know  there  can't  be  any  jarring  of  the  conventionalities." 

"Fiddlesticks!" 

"Yes,  fiddlesticks  if  you  please.  I  know  that  as  a 
prominent  journalist — oh  yes,  prominent,  I  repeat  it — 
you  have  the  entre  into  our  most  select  circles  and  very 
properly  so.  You  indeed  are  a  man  of  importance.  Mr. 
DeWitt  Norton  and  his  family  circle  and  his  other 


78  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

friends  might  not  care  to  meet  Mr.  DeWitt  Norton's 
former  mine  mucker,  erstwhile  machine  drill  man  and 
new  shift  boss,  socially." 

"But"— 

"Yes  I  know  just  what  you  are  about  to  say,  old 
chap.  You  want  to  tell  me  all  about  how  self-made  men 
are  honored  and  how  labor  conquers  everything  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  And  your  platitudes  are  true,  but  you 
forget  that  I  am  in  the  self -making  and  not  at  the  'made' 
stage  yet,  and  no  matter  what  you  or  I  or  broad-minded 
friends  think — and  indeed  you  and  I  are  broad-minded, 
John,  especially  on  the  subject  of  our  own  worth — there 
still  are  certain  social  conventionalities  and  those  rules 
refuse  to  be  jarred." 

"If  you're  not  good  enough  for  any  of  them",  Walton 
exclaimed  hotly,  "then — " 

"They  are  not  good  enough  for  you",  Dan  finished 
for  him.  "I  thank  you,  friend,  from  the  bottom  of  my 
palpitating  heart  for  your  sentiments,  but  even  you  and 
all  your  generous  ideas  cannot  change  the  rules  of  the 
game." 

Walton  reached  forward  and  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe  into  the  fireplace. 

"In  some  things,  Daniel  Bradshaw,  you" — 

"I  know",  interrupted  the  miner  with  a  grin,  "I  make 
you  sick." 


CHAPTER  IX 
WITHIN  THE  GATES 

Walton  was  sincere  in  his  offer  to  take  Bradshaw 
with  him  into  those  circles  in  which  the  newspaperman 
had  established  himself  by  force  of  his  ability,  his  person- 
ality and  his  ever-increasing  importance  as  an  editor.  A 
man  of  character  was  Walton  and  while  he  recognized 
those  little  niceties  of  conventional  society,  he  despised 
snobbishness.  Bradshaw's  employment  in  a  mine,  in 
Walton's  opinion,  offered  not  the  slightest  reason  why 
the  miner  should  be  denied  the  privilege  of  mingling 
with  that  stratum  of  society  to  which  Bradshaw  rightly 
belonged.  Of  course  the  newspaperman  was  well  aware 
that  even  in  the  most  exclusive  society  there  were  to  be 
found  those  who  neither  by  reason  of  character  nor  any 
other  qualification  were  worthy  of  being  there,  but  who 
through  some  peculiar  accident  of  Fate,  attained  to  the 
company  of  the  elect.  But  Bradshaw  was  hot  one  of 
these.  Indeed  Bradshaw  was  far  superior  to  many 
whom  Walton  had  met  in  the  inner  precincts  of  Society. 
*  *  *  *  * 

On  the  following  evening  Walton  was  a  visitor  at  the 
DeWitt  Norton  home.  There  he  always  found  a  whole- 
some atmosphere.  In  this  beautiful  mansion,  with  its 
many  and  well  chosen  art  treasures,  prevailed  a  true 
spirit  of  home,  a  sincerity  and  a  refinement  that  appealed 
immensely  to  Walton. 


80  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

In  the  spacious,  rug-strewn  drawing  room  with  its 
splendidly  designed  furniture  Walton  occupied  a  corner 
of  a  deep,  roomy  Davenport,  while  Norton  lounged  in  a 
comfortable  leather  arm-chair.  The  lovely  Miss  Mary 
Norton,  DeWitt's  sister,  sat  at  the  grand  piano,  her 
fingers  lightly  caressing  the  keys  while  beside  her  stood 
another  girl,  Margaret  Hanlon,  whose  beauty  claimed 
much  of  Walton's  attention.  She  had  a  charming  voice 
and  at  the  solicitation  of  both  Norton  and  Walton,  Mar- 
garet sang  several  delightful  little  songs,  while  Mary 
played  her  accompaniment. 

"So  you  are  going  to  California  next  Sunday  night, 
Mr.  Walton",  said  Mary  Norton,  as  she  moved  away 
from  the  piano. 

"Direct  to  the  Pacific  coast",  he  replied,  making  room 
for  her  on  the  Davenport  beside  him. 

"And  a  week  from  Sunday  night  DeWitt,  Margaret 
and  I  leave  for  New  York",  Mary  went  on.  "Margaret 
won't  stay  with  us  long  though,  for  she  insists  on  going 
directly  to  Palm  Beach  to  join  her  mother." 

"I  fear  Mother  will  be  wondering  what  has  become 
of  her  wandering  chee-ild",  said  Margaret,  smilingly. 
"When  you  are  in  California,  Mr.  Walton,  I  hope  you 
will  find  time  to  write  that  book  you  told  us  about." 

The  newspaperman  looked  at  her  with  slightly  nar- 
rowed eyes.  He  wondered  how  sincere  was  her  apparent 
interest  in  him.  "It's  merely  in  the  notion  stage  at 
present"  he  remarked  smiling.  "I've  the  idea  that  Butte 
offers  as  good  a  subject  as  I  possibly  could  find  and  I  am 
anxious  to  try  it." 

"Indeed  yes,"  exclaimed  Norton.  "Is  it  to  be  a  pioneer 
or  a  modern  day  story?" 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  81 

"A  little  of  both",  replied  Walton.  "The  romance  of 
mining,  as  I  think  of  it,  has  not  gone  because  mines  have 
become  vast  enterprises." 

"You  are  right  about  that",  assented  Norton.  "The 
game  is  as  full  of  adventure  today  as  ever,  I  think." 

"Take,  for  example,  the  heroism  of  mine  rescues", 
Mary  suggested. 

"Think  of  the  tragedies  and  near-tragedies  and  other 
vital  dramas  enacted  far  underground",  Walton  went  on 
enthusiastically. 

"Yes",  remarked  Norton  somewhat  dryly.  "I  have 
thought  of  them  rather  frequently." 

"And  romance",  the  newspaperman  continued. 
"There  is  as  much  individual  romance  connected  with 
the  mining  industry  today  as  there  ever  was,  though 
doubtless  of  a  different  sort.  It  is  mighty  fascinating, 
too.  You  know,  I  didn't  get  my  information  in  that  re- 
gard at  second-hand." 

"I  think  your  having  worked  in  a  mine  right  here  in 
Butte,  Mr.  Walton,  is  most  interesting",  Margaret  said. 
"Several  of  the  boys  with  whom  I  went  to  school  here 
are  mining  engineers  now.  My  dad  worked  in  a  mine 
when  he  was  a  young  man,"  she  added  proudly. 

"And  so  did  mine",  declared  Mary. 

"And  a  good  miner  at  that",  Norton  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  and  after  they  made  their  way  to  fortune",  re- 
marked the  newspaperman,  after  a  brief  pause,  "they 
went  on  to  fame  because  they  were  broad-minded,  edu- 
cated men,  who  continued  to  educate  themselves  all  the 
more  after  they  got  the  fortunes.  They  stand  out  heroic 
and  romantic.  I  know  of  a  man  in  this  town  now,- 
miner — who  is  much  like  that  in  the  making." 

"You  do?"  asked  Mary.    "Please  tell  us  about  him". 

Walton  laughed.    "I'm  afraid  I  might  bore  you"— 


82  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"But  we  do  want  you  to  tell  us",  Margaret  insisted. 

"I  met  him  when  he  first  came  here",  Walton  began. 
"He  never  had  been  down  a  mine  before,  but  he  took  to 
mining  as  a  duck  takes  to  water.  He  is  a  strong  man, 
physically  and  mentally  and  has  a  good  education.  In 
my  opinion,  he  has  knightly  qualities,  but  perhaps  I  am 
prejudiced  in  his  favor." 

"Oh,  how  really  romantic!"  exclaimed  Mary  Norton. 

"He  is  chuck  full  of  the  romance  of  life  too",  Walton 
continued.  "He  started  as  a  mucker — a  shoveler,  you 
know,  and  then  worked  his  way  up  to  a  machine-drill 
man.  And  he's  going  higher.  He  deserves  the  oppor- 
tunity to  do  so.  I  feel  sure  that  if  he  had  wanted  to  de- 
vote himself  to  some  other  line  of  work  affording  the 
chance  of  quicker  advancement,  he  would  have  made 
much  more  rapid  progress." 

"Why  does  he  remain  where  he  is?"  asked  Norton. 

"He  thinks  he  has  a  mission  to  perform;  he's  thor- 
oughly sincere  about  it." 

"A  mission?"  queried  Mary. 

"Yes,  he  wants  to  lead  the  people  with  whom  he 
labors,  on  to  a  better,  higher  status  by  teaching  them  a 
different,  a  better  viewpoint". 

"He's  tackling  an  immeasurably  bigger  job  than  he 
probably  imagines  it  to  be",  commented  Norton.  "The 
sort  of  purpose  you  say  he  has,  Walton,  is  much  as  if  he 
were  playing  with  fire — apt  to  burn  a  lot  of  innocent 
persons  and  incidentally  perish  himself  in  the  flames." 

"From  Mr.  Walton's  description  of  him",  said  Mary 
slowly,  "he  would  seem  to  be  a  modern  knight-errant.  I 
know  there  are  men  of  that  kind  in  the  mines.  I  would 
like  to  meet  him." 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  get  him  to  enter  what  he 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 83 

calls  'the  sacred  precincts',  Miss  Norton",  Walton  in- 
formed her. 

"Just  the  same,  I  might  meet  him  some  day",  she 
said.  "Do  you  know, — I  rather  think  I  would  know  him 
were  I  to  see  him — just  from  what  you  have  told  us  of 
him." 

"I  should  judge  him  to  be  a  strong  man",  Norton 
summed  up.  "Doubtless  a  man  of  good  brain.  But  a  man 
of  his  theories  generally  has  to  go  through  the  scorifying 
process,  before  he  comes  out  the  better,  the  finer  and  the 
greater  influence  for  general  good.  But  a  man  of  that 
kind  often  makes  a  crucible  for  his  own  firing  and  that 
very  fact  makes  the  trial  by  fire  all  the  more  severe.  If 
he  survives  it,  he  might  become  a  great  man.  If  he  does 
not,  he  goes  down  to  the  very  depths  of  his  crucible,  there 

to  be  consumed." 

***** 

Later,  when  Norton  had  left  them  to  answer  a  tele- 
phone message  and  his  sister  was  in  the  dining  room  ar- 
ranging their  little  supper,  Walton  was  left  alone  with 
Margaret. 

"I  won't  have  a  chance  to  see  you  again  for  several 
months,"  he  said,  "even  if  you  do  come  out  here  again  in 
the  Spring." 

"I  surely  expect  to  be  back  here  then",  said  the  girl. 

"It  certainly  will  seem  a  long  winter",  Walton  sighed. 

"But  you  will  be  among  the  sunshine  and  flowers  in 
California  for  some  of  the  time",  she  told  him  sincerely. 

"Just  for  a  small  part  of  the  winter",  he  conceded. 

"And  you  will  be  busy  with  your  work,  won't  you?" 

A  frown  passed  over  Walton's  face.  "Work  is  not 
everything,"  he  said. 

"I  shall  be  very  disappointed  if  you  do  not  work  on 
the  book,"  she  said  earnestly.  And  for  a  moment  her 
eyes  met  his, 


CHAPTER  X 
STORM  CLOUDS 

On  Sunday  night,  Dan  went  with  Walton  to  the 
depot  and,  as  they  said  goodbye,  Walton  made  Dan  reit- 
erate his  promise  to  keep  his  friend  posted  on  the  trend 
of  Butte  events. 

Returning  up  town,  Dan  hesitated  between  going  to 
League  headquarters  or  to  Carty's.  In  the  end  he  com- 
promised by  strolling  into  Klemner's  shop  where  he  en- 
countered Chris,  all  togged  out  in  his  Sunday  finery. 

"Meelie  an'  me  ve  go  to  show",  Chris  informed  him 
with  a  grin. 

But  Millie  was  then  inclined  to  veto  the  plan. 

"Oh,  we  can  all  stay  here  and  have  a  kind  of  a  party 
at  home",  she  ventured  blithely. 

Chris  objected.  "Ay  got  tickets  for  da  show",  he  in- 
sisted. 

"You  mustn't  let  me  spoil  your  afternoon",  Brad- 
shaw  came  to  his  rescue. 

The  girl  tossed  her  head.  "Come  on  then,  Chris",  she 
commanded. 

After  they  had  gone,  Dan  and  the  shoemaker  car- 
ried on  a  desultory  conversation  while  the  latter  pottered 
about  the  shop  and  Bradshaw  turned  his  attention  to  the 
shelf  where  Klemner  kept  the  files  of  the  paper  contain- 
ing Clairmont's  articles.  Under  a  stack  of  papers  there, 
Dan  came  on  the  grammar  he  had  given  Millie  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  85 

which  she  must  have  inadvertantly  left  in  that  place.  He 
smiled  to  himself  as  he  glanced  through  it  and  noted  how 
very  little  it  had  been  used. 

From  Klemner's,  Dan  made  his  way  towards  Carty's. 
Passing  his  boarding  house  he  met  Paddy  Skiff  emerg- 
ing from  the  hostelry  with  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity  confidently 
holding  to  his  sturdy  left  arm. 

"To  the  movies",  announced  Paddy  with  a  triumph- 
ant grin  as  they  sailed  by. 

At  Carty's,  Dan  met  Jackson. 

"Aren't  you  on  night  shift  since  you  were  transferred 
to  the  sixteen-hundred?"  asked  Dan.  "What  are  you  do- 
ing— laying  off?" 

"Layin'  off  nothin' — laid  off",  answered  Jackson. 

Dan  took  him  over  to  a  table  and  there  with  'alf-and- 
'alf  mixtures  before  them,  Jackson  told  his  story. 

"It's  all  on  'spicion,  far's  I'm  concerned",  declared 
Jackson.  "I  know  they're  cleanin'  out  the  mine  of  a 
lot  of  the  bad  stuff,  but  you  see,  Dan,  where  it  works  bad 
is  that  it  gives  some  shift  boss  who's  got  it  in  fer  a  man 
a  chance  to  git  him — if  he  wants  to." 

"Who  had  it  in  for  you?"  asked  Bradshaw. 

"Smith,  I  think.  He's  bin  sore  at  me  since  he  was  took 
out  of  the  eighteen-hundred  to  make  way  fer  you  'cause 
he  knows  I'm  a  friend  of  yours.  He  got  a  good  chance 
to  git  me  an'  I  guess  he  has." 

"There  are  other  places",  Dan  suggested. 

"You  don't  see  me  worryin' ",  remarked  Jackson,  as 
he  reached  for  his  glass.  "Only  I  done  good  work  in  the 
Mont  an'  it's  a  raw  deal  I  got." 

"You  can  bet  the  real  higher-ups  don't  know  it",  Dan 
told  him.  "Who  else  was  fired?" 

"Four  or  five  of  the  boys — four  I  think — James,  Har- 
rington, Dunleavy  an'  Lands." 


86  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Those  boys  are  all  right",  declared  Bradshaw.  "This 
thing  ought  to  be  investigated." 

"Yeh,  some  of  the  boys  say  they're  goin'  to  spring  it 
at  the  League  meetin'  tomorrow  night",  Jackson  in- 
formed him. 

Bradshaw  frowningly  studied  the  situation. 

"If  they  say  they  will  I  suppose  they  will",  he  said 
slowly,  "but  I  really  think  I  could  fix  it  better  myself." 

"Sure  thing  you  could",  Jackson  agreed  emphatically. 
*  *  *  *  * 

Millie  and  Chris  returned  to  Klemner's  at  a  surpris- 
ingly early  hour.  "Oh  it  was  only  that  same  vaudeville 
show  we  seen  last  week",  Millie  explained  to  her  father. 
"How  long  you  been  here  alone?" 

"An  hour  or  so",  he  told  her. 

"Huh!"  she  ejaculated.  "Seems  like  Dan  Bradshaw 
ain't  got  much  patience  'round  this  place  any  more." 

Chris    said    nothing,    but    ran    his    fingers    slcrwly 
through  his  thick,  tightly  curled  hair. 
***** 

The  next  evening  before  the  meeting  of  the  League, 
to  which  the  members  were  looking  forward  with  such 
interest  because  of  Bradshaw's  scheduled  report  concern- 
ing Wilkins  and  Snitch,  Vignon  appeared  at  Carty's 
where  he  drank  enough  to  induce  a  belligerent  mood.  At 
intervals  he  pounded  on  the  bar  and  voiced  his  feelings 
in  the  emphatic  but  rather  general  term :  "To  hell  with 
'em". 

Crunch  had  a  place  at  the  bar  and  he  was  expatiating 
on  the  beauties  of  Shakespeare  to  a  couple  of  blear-eyed 
persons  who  did  not  know  if  Shakespeare  had  been  a 
writer  or  was  a  well-known  baseball  player.  But  they 
urged  Crunch  to  proceed  whenever  he  hesitated. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  87 

After  a  time,  Crunch,  flushed  of  face  and  with  abnor- 
mally bright  eyes,  withdrew  from  the  line  and  made  his 
unsteady  way  to  one  of  the  tables,  where  he  endeavored 
with  much  difficulty  to  mount  it.  Finally  sprawling  for- 
ward on  its  top,  he  managed  to  gather  himself  up  on  all 
fours  and  thus  he  remained  peering  at  those  who  had 
turned  from  the  bar  to  observe  his  antics.  One  of  the 
two  whom  Crunch  had  been  initiating  into  the  delights 
of  the  Bard  of  Avon,  regarded  him  with  mock  serious- 
ness. "There  ain't  no  such  animul",  said  one  facetiously, 
shaking  his  head  slowly  while  the  other  spectators 
laughed. 

But  Crunch,  with  one  hand  raised,  paid  no  heed  to 
that  and  began  to  declaim: 

"  Trien's,  Rom'ns,  coun'rymen,  len' 
me  y'ears ;' ' 

That  seemed  to  arouse  Vignon's  sense  of  humor.    "Oh 
ho  ho — ears,  ears,"  he  roared  out  in  his  bull  voice. 

Crunch,  evidently  considering  that  as  encouragement, 
went  on  more  vehemently:  "We  mus'  control  situa- 
shun." 

And  that  doubtless  recalled  to  Vignon  that  he  was 
about  due  at  League  headquarters  for  he  abruptly  strode 
out,  leaving  the  door  open. 

Carty  came  around  from  back  of  the  bar,  wiping  his 
hands  on  his  apron,  and  grasping  Crunch  by  the  coat  col- 
lar, jerked  him  from  the  table  and  over  to  a  chair  in  a 
corner.  Then  he  kicked  the  door  shut — and  trade  at  the 
bar  resumed. 

When  Vignon  reached  League  headquarters  he  first 
encountered  a  group  of  members  whose  chairs  formed  a 
semi-circle  in  front  of  the  seated  Cronel.  "I  have  spoken 
to  you  of  the  bourgeois  class,"  Cronel  was  saying.  "Let 
me  further  explain".  He  stretched  out  a  long  right  arm 


88  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

so  that  his  big  and  knobby  wrist  showed.  "In  the  days 
of  the  Reign  of  Terror  which  France  was  undergoing — " 

But  Vignon  did  not  wait  to  hear  more. 

"Hell",  he  muttered  disgustedly,  "what's  France  got 
to  do  with  it?"  Noisily  he  proceeded  along  the  hall  to  a 
favorite  place  where  presently  some  of  his  following  be- 
gan to  congregate  to  listen  to  his  sentiments  which  had 
become  even  more  viciously  candid  in  the  past  few  days. 
As  he  paused,  Cronel  could  be  heard  declaring  his  notions 
to  his  few  devoted  followers : 

"First  came  the  animal,  then  savagery,  then  chattel- 
ism  and  later  came  feudalism.  The  present  method  is 
just  another  form  of  evolution  and  its  got  to  move  on 
with  the  rest." 

"That  guy's  the  limit",  exclaimed  Vignon  exasperat- 
edly.  "He's  always  yappin'  'bout  what's  goin'  to  be  done, 
what  kin  be  done,  what  might  be  done,  an'  never  doin' 
nothin'.  With  me  it's  differen'.  I'm  fer  action,  direc' 
action.  We're  goin'  to  git  what  we  want  or  we  raise 
hell — see?  Len'  me  yer  ears,  you  guys" — This  phrase 
produced  an  effect  on  his  listeners  that  gratified  Vignon, 
and  he  resolved  to  make  frequent  use  of  it — "we're  after 
the  labor  jurisdiction  in  this  town  an'  we're  goin'  to  git 
it."  Vignon  paused.  His  audience  drew  their  chairs 
closer  to  him  for  this  sort  of  talk  pleased  it  immensely. 
And  as  it  was  still  an  hour  until  meeting  time,  Vignon 
and  his  coterie  devoted  themselves  to  a  discussion  of 
jurisdictional  demands  to  be  made.  They  sneered  at 
Bradshaw's  advance  to  the  position  of  shift  boss.  But 
just  then  Dan  came  into  the  hall,  and  if  he  heard  what 
they  were  saying,  Bradshaw  contented  himself  with  an 
inward  smile.  He  awaited  the  psychological  moment  for 
denouncing  them. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  89 

When  the  meeting  was  called  to  order,  routine  pro- 
cedure was  quickly  disposed  of  and  Cronel  called  for 
Dan's  report. 

Bradshaw  arose,  and  a  hush  came  over  the  meeting. 

"Fellow  Workers",  he  began,  "I  have  investigated 
the  Wilkins  and  Snitch  case.  They  themselves  admit 
twisting  off  the  switch.  They" — 

"What  of  it?"  called  out  Vignon.  "Is  this  to  be  a 
white- washin*  of  the  comp'ny?" 

Dan  turned  a  flushed  face  in  Vignon's  direction.  "If 
the  interrupting  member  wants  to  take  personal  issue 
with  what  I  say",  Dan  shouted  in  a  challenging  tone,  "he 
can  wait  until  after  the  meeting  and  I'll  give  him  all 
the"— 

"Order,  order",  Cronel  interrupted,  pounding  on  his 
desk. 

There  were  many  growing  murmurs  around  the  hall 
but  as  Dan  spoke  there  came  a  silence  among  the  mem- 
bers. Dan  said  emphatically — even  defiantly: 

"These  two  fellows,  Wilkins  and  Snitch,  are  no  good 
and  you  know  it.  They  are  a  disgrace  to  this  or  any 
other  organization  and  their  actions  bring  discredit  on 
us.  I  move  that  this  League  let  the  matter  drop" — 

Despite  hands  that  sought  to  restrain  him,  Vignon 
struggled  to  his  feet.  Many  of  his  followers  stood  up 
with  him. 

"What  the  hell  kind  of  talk's  that?"  bellowed  Vignon. 

Hands  were  reached  out  to  draw  him  back  to  his 
chair,  but  Vignon  swung  his  fist  viciously  at  the  nearest 
member,  missing  that  member's  nose  by  a  scant  margin. 

Other  members  jumped  to  their  feet  and  tried  to 
make  themselves  heard. 

There  was  increasing  confusion. 

Vignon  continued  to  struggle  with  those  about  him. 


90  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Bradshaw  stood  straight  and  defiant. 

Cronel  continued  to  pound  on  his  desk.  "Order,  or- 
der," he  shouted. 

Vignon  shook  a  fist  at  Cronel.  "I'll  git  yuh  too,  yuh 
nut!"  Vignon  yelled. 

Bradshaw  sprang  on  a  chair. 

"Shut  up,  everybody",  he  shouted  above  the  din  of 
voices,  and  suddenly  there  was  a  cessation  of  the  hubbub 
while  the  members  regarded  him  intently. 

"How  can  you  fellows  get  fair  play  if  you  don't  want 
to  give  it?"  he  demanded  with  flashing  eyes,  his  face 
thrust  forward  at  the  Vignon  contingent.  "There's  other 
business  to  be  considered  here  about  damn-sight  better 
men  being  fired,  and  they're  the  ones  we  want  to  talk 
about." 

As  this  was  news  to  the  League,  it  was  content  to  let 
Bradshaw  have  the  opportunity  he  wanted  to  speak. 
Vignon  permitted  himself  to  be  drawn  back  onto  his 
chair. 

But  at  this  point,  Jackson,  the  good-natured  and  usu- 
ally the  very  mild,  did  just  what  the  good-natured  and 
the  very  mild  sometimes  do — he  lost  his  temper.  Jump- 
ing up  from  his  place,  near  the  front  of  the  hall,  he  be- 
gan with  an  emphasis  that  at  once  claimed  attention. 

"Bradshaw's  right",  he  called  out.  "I'm  one  of  the 
fellers  he's  talkin'  'bout  now  an'  I'm  speakin'  fer  the 
rest  of  us  wat  got  canned  last,  an'  I'm  here  to  say  Brad- 
shaw's good  'nough  to  do  all  the  investigatin'  fer  me  an' 
them  too." 

Jackson  sat  down  and  so  did  Bradshaw  when  Cronel, 
now  better  able  to  control  the  situation,  rapped  on  his 
desk  with  both  hands  and  again  asked  for  order. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  91 

"Comrades",  said  Cronel,  "let's  not  lose  sight  of  reg- 
ular business.  Let's  not  be  carried  away  by  outbreaks. 
Let's  find  out  about  this  new  order  of  business." 

In  that  way  Cronel  utilized  a  very  opportune  means 
of  diverting  attention  to  something  of  new,  and  thus  of 
more,  interest.  And  anyhow,  the  membership  had  no 
erroneous  ideas  as  to  the  merit  and  importance  of  Wil- 
kins  and  Snitch  but  knew  that  they  had  been  made  sub- 
jects of  League  consideration  only  because  they  were 
creatures  of  Vignon,  and  to  some  extent  because  their 
case  represented  something  tangible  in  affording  oppo- 
sition to  what  Vignon  always  spoke  of  to  them  as  the 
"system". 

"Let  us  have  the  information  regarding  your  affair, 
Comrade  Jackson",  requested  the  president. 

Jackson  got  up  and  made  a  brief  statement  of  the 
discharge  of  the  four  men  and  himself,  concluding  with 
reiterating  that  the  other  four  men  and  he  wanted  Brad- 
shaw  to  investigate  their  case. 

In  turn  each  of  the  other  four  men  arose  and  sub- 
stantiated Jackson's  statements. 

"Does  anyone  desire  to  put  that  in  the  form  of  a  mo- 
tion?" asked  Cronel. 

Jackson  formally  moved  that  Bradshaw  be  chosen  the 
investigator  of  the  new  case  and  the  motion  was  quickly 
seconded  by  each  of  the  other  four  men  involved. 

Before  the  vote  was  called  for,  Vignon  arose.  He 
had  himself  better  in  hand  now,  but  he  spoke  with  cut- 
ting sarcasm.  He  scoffed  at  any  investigations  by  any- 
one who  very  evidently,  he  said,  was  not  in  harmony  or 
sympathy  with  the  purposes  of  the  League  and  who  did 
not  intend  to  be  a  factor  in  advancing  the  organization's 
cause.  He  declared  that  Wilkins  and  Snitch  had  afforded 
the  League  ample  chance  to  make  a  stand  even  to  the 


92  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

extent  of  fomenting  a  strike,  but  that  the  League's  back- 
bone had  not  grown  proportionately  with  its  member- 
ship. As  for  Jackson  and  the  other  four  men,  if  they 
wanted  Bradshaw  to  do  the  investigating  for  them  he 
was  satisfied,  but  he  was  confident  that  the  League's  in- 
fluence and  importance  already  had  been  threatened  by 
the  disposition  that  had  been  shown  in  the  investigating 
of  the  Wilkins-Snitch  case,  and  that  any  more  disregard 
of  the  League's  power  and  purposes  would  be  the  organ- 
ization's ruination.  He,  for  one,  did  not  propose  to  stand 
idly  by  and  not  raise  his  voice  in  protest  against  the  ruin- 
ing of  the  League. 

He  sat  down  and  noisy  applause  resounded. 

Bradshaw  arose  to  reply.  He,  too,  had  himself  in 
hand.  He  expressed  himself  surprised  that  any  member 
of  the  League  should  try  to  make  it  appear  that  the  or- 
ganization sanctioned  lawlessness.  He  could  not  see  how 
the  League  logically  could  uphold  Wilkins  and  Snitch  in 
what  they  had  done,  if  the  League  opposed  lawlessness. 
And  certainly  the  League  advocated  law  and  order. 
Bradshaw  was  astonished  to  learn  from  any  member 
that  the  League  was  looking  for  an  excuse  to  urge  a 
strike.  He  wanted  justice  to  prevail  at  all  times  but  he 
could  not  understand  why  the  League  should  favor  action 
that  instead  of  making  for  work  on  equitable  conditions 
would  tend  to  deprive  the  membership  of  work. 

"Wurk,  wurk,  that's  all  ye  think  of  is  wurk",  some- 
one remarked.  "We  ain't  so  crazy  fer  wurk". 

Which  statement  brought  a  laugh. 

Cronel  called  for  the  vote. 

There  was  just  as  much  noise  when  the  affirmative 
vote  was  shouted  out  as  when  the  negative  vote  ensued. 

Cronel  hesitated,  undecided  as  to  what  announcement 
he  should  make  regarding  the  outcome  of  the  voting.  It 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  9E 

looked  as  if  the  membership  actually  intended  making 
sport  of  him,  with  the  five  men  concerned  and  with  Brad- 
shaw. 

Dan  stood  up. 

"I  arise  to  a  point  of  personal  privilege",  he  said, 
"and  we'll  settle  this." 

The  president  nodded  approvingly,  glad  to  let  some- 
one else  handle  the  situation. 

"Fellow  Workers",  began  Bradshaw  facing  the  bulk 
of  the  membership  and  talking  evenly  with  a  steely  qual- 
ity in  his  tone,  "if  there  is  any  member  here  who  thinks 
I  wouldn't  give  these  five  men  a  square  deal  in  investi- 
gating their  affair  or  that  I  wouldn't  carry  their  case 
right  up  to  the  highest  official  himself, — Norton  I  mean 
— because  I  have  their  word  they  didn't  deserve  what 
they  got,  I  ask  that  one  to  stand  up.  Or  if  there  is  any 
one  here  who  thinks  I  haven't  given  the  League  a  square 
deal  or  wouldn't  do  so,  I  ask  that  one  to  stand  up." 

He  waited. 

No  one  arose. 

There  was  a  snicker  from  a  corner  of  the  hall  and 
then  a  murmur  of  voices. 

Bradshaw  turned  to  Cronel. 

"Mr.  President,  I  ask  for  a  decision  on  the  vote." 

Cronel  rubbed  his  chin. 

More  laughter  ensued  from  the  body  of  the  hall 

"Let  him  do  it,  Cronel,"  came  a  voice  from  somewhere 
near  the  back  of  the  room.  "Those  five  guys  want  him." 

"It's  their  funeral",  shouted  another. 

"Alright,  let  th'  wise  guy  do  it",  another  called  from 
behind  the  cover  of  his  hand. 

"The  'ayes'  appear  to  have  it",  decreed  Cronei. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 


Immediately  the  members  began  to  leave.  There  was 
no  regular  adjournment. 

But  there  were  more  individual  fights  that  night,  in- 
side and  outside  the  League's  headquarters,  than  ever 
Before  in  its  career. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  GIRL  OF  THE  TRAIN 

Immediately  on  coming  off  shift  the  following  after- 
noon Dan  went  to  the  Monticana  building  to  present  the 
case  of  Jackson  and  the  four  others  to  DeWitt  Norton* 
but  he  found  that  the  mine  owner  was  out  of  town  and 
was  not  expected  back  until  the  following  Saturday. 

Bradshaw  would  have  liked  to  have  had  a  talk  with 
Walton,  but  as  he  could  not  do  that  he  went  home  to 
write  a  letter  to  his  friend. 

"I  am  up  against  the  Direct  Actionist  element  in  the 
League,"  he  wrote  in  his  bold,  characteristic  hand.  "It 
involves  the  blind  prejudice  and  unreasoning  hatred  of 
Vignon  and  his  gang  against  any  sort  of  industrial  wel- 
fare or  harmony.  Much  to  my  deep  regret,  some  of 
those  Leaguers  on  whom  I  counted,  have  come  to  have 
the  foolish  notion  that  maybe,  after  all,  Vignon's  way 
might  be  the  more  effective.  Coarse  and  loud  talking 
seem  to  have  a  lot  of  influence  with  his  followers.  It 
makes  them  think  there  actually  is  a  way  for  them  either 
to  take  over  all  industrial  properties  or  destroy  them  and 
start  their  own.  It  is  too  bad  that  all  the  League  mem- 
bers are  in  danger  of  being  stigmatized  as  Direct  Action- 
ists.  Believe  me  dear  friend,  I  find  it  some  job  trying  to 
steer  the  League-craft  safely  over  the  boiling  waters  be- 
tween the  Scylla  of  Direct  Actionism  and  the  Charybdis 
of  an  as  yet  unorganized  radicalism  that  also  borders  on 


96  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

red  anarchy.    But  if  I  win  out  the  victory  will  be  all  the 
greater  and  the  sweeter." 

Then  Dan  went  on  to  tell  of  other  things : 
"If  I  am  destined  not  to  help  humanity's  cause  in 
some  degree  of  leadership,  at  least  I  may  be  of  service  in 
another  way.  I  am  a  potential  inventor — yes  indeed. 
Ever  since  that  cage  accident  in  the  'See-Saw'  mine  I 
have  been  giving  the  vitally  important  subject  of  safety 
clutches  for  mine  cages  considerable  attention,  and  I 
think  I  have  hit  on  a  new  principle." 

Having  finished  and  mailed  his  letter  to  Walton, 
Bradshaw  wandered  up  in  the  direction  of  Carty's,  but 
he  did  not  enter  the  saloon.  Instead,  he  walked  on  away 
from  the  roadway  until  he  was  a  little  above  where  the 
Lane  and  the  mine  road  joined.  There  he  came  to  a  jut- 
ting boulder  on  which  he  seated  himself  and  looked  over 
the  city  twinkling  out  in  its  night  lights,  to  the  far 
ranges  in  the  last  of  their  eventide  glory.  A  great  lone- 
liness swept  over  him.  Through  his  mind  ran  hopes  and 
longings.  He  wanted  to  be  introspective.  He  wanted  to 
analyze  his  status.  But  finally  he  had  to  admit  to  him- 
self that  he  was  weary  and  what  he  wanted  most  was  a 
comforting  hand  and  a  soothing  voice.  How  wonderful 
it  would  be  to  meet  "The  Girl  of  the  Train"  in  some  such 
purple  restfulness  as  that  above  the  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains! With  her  true,  understanding  eyes,  intently  re- 
garding him  with  almost  a  maternal  solicitude  in  their 
clear  depths,  how  comforting  it  would  be  to  pour  out  to 
her  his  hopes  and  his  fears,  his  ambitions,  his  strivings 
and  the  longing  of  his  soul  to  win  that  success  which 
would  make  him  worthy  in  her  eyes.  She  would  know 
how  hard  was  the  way.  She  would  understand  that  en- 
vironment had  not  changed,  could  not  change  that  innate 
quality  that  was  his  birthright.  And  with  her  to  stimu- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  97 

late  him  to  every  mental  and  moral  effort,  how  he  could 
work  for  her,  fight  for  her  and  succeed  for  her! 

The  darkness  of  the  night  was  all  about  him  and  he 
arose  and  drew  in  a  full  breath.  Verily  he  had  been 
dreaming.  But  his  dream  seemed  to  go  with  the  van- 
ishing purple  of  evening.  Through  his  mind  flashed  a 
curious  thought — The  only  feminine  companionship 
available  to  him  was  Millie  Klemner. 

Dan  smiled  grimly  and  went  to  League  headquarters. 

Bradshaw  was  talking  to  the  secretary  in  the  latter's 
little  room  when  Vignon,  accompanied  by  Wilkins  and 
Snitch,  slouched  in  from  the  assembly  hall.  Vignon 
made  as  if  to  talk  business  with  the  secretary  and  then 
pretended  to  have  observed  for  the  first  time  since  en- 
tering the  room  that  Bradshaw  was  there. 

"Havin'  some  trouble  seem'  yer  frien' "  he  sneered, 
for  Dan  had  made  it  known  to  some  of  the  members  that 
he  had  decided  to  await  the  return  of  DeWitt  Norton  be- 
fore seeking  an  adjustment  of  the  case  concerning  Jack- 
son and  the  other  four. 

"I  always  can  see  my  friends/'  Bradshaw  replied 
pointedly,  but  he  knew  to  what  Vignon  referred. 

"Yeh?"  remarked  Vignon  with  a  swagger  of  his 
shoulders  as  he  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 
"Maybe  some  of  these  days  that  ain't  all  you'll  see." 

But  it  was  the  sneering  smiles  on  the  faces  of  Wil- 
kins and  Snitch  that  irritated  Dan  most. 

"I'll  ask  you  to  step  outside,  Vignon",  he  invited. 
"You  leave  your  two  hobo  friends  here  and  we'll  go  out 
and  settle  up." 

Wilkins  scowled  at  Bradshaw  from  what  he  consid- 
ered the  safe  protection  of  his  chief.  "Don't  go,  Mike," 
he  advised  Vignon.  "Don't  take  no  chances  wid  'em — he 
might  knife  yuh." 


98  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Bradshaw's  fist  shot  out  and  Wilkins  keeled  over 
backwards,  toppled  across  a  chair  and  rolled  to  the  floor. 
Men  came  hurriedly  from  the  assembly  hall  and  clus- 
tered around  the  principals.  The  following  instant  Brad- 
shaw  was  ready  for  Vignon,  but  the  latter  only  leered  at 
Dan  for  a  moment  and  then  ungraciously  nudging  Wil- 
kins with  his  foot  ordered  him  to  "git  up".  Wilkins, 
with  the  aid  of  a  chair,  managed  to  get  to  his  feet. 

There  were  sullen  mutterings  among  the  spectators 
and  Dan  sensed  that  they  were  antagonistic  to  him. 

"Yeh — he's  beginnin'  to  use  rough  stuff",  some  man 
at  the  edge  of  the  surrounding  group  said  just  loud 
enough  for  Dan  to  hear. 

"Where'd  he  git  the  idea  he  kin  hit  a  guy  what  don't 
happin'  to  agree  with  'im?"  another  remarked. 

Paddy  Skiff  forced  his  way  through  to  Dan's  side. 
"Come  on — let's  take  a  walk",  he  prompted,  and  Brad- 
shaw,  slowly  turning,  shouldered  his  way  through  the 
crowd. 

"Fer  the  sake  of  commin  sense",  broke  out  Paddy 
when  they  were  beyond  the  League's  doors,  "can't  ye  see 
Vignon's  f ramin'  up  all  kinds  of  things  f er  ye  ?  I'm  glad 
I  come  when  I  did.  That  mixup  in  there  was  a  plant — 
a  stall  to  git  ye  in  wrong  some  more." 

"Plant  or  no  plant",  Bradshaw  answered  decisively, 
"I'd  do  the  same  thing  over  a  dozen  times.  I  couldn't 
let  a  cur  like  Wilkins  get  away  with  what  he  said.  And 
Vignon" — 

Paddy  interrupted  him.  "Now  don't  ye  go  gittin'  off 
•wrong  on  Vignon.  He's  a  fighter  all  right  an'  when  he 
didn't  jump  in  an'  give  ye  battle  'twas  that  he  had  a 
rsason  fer  not  doin'  so.  Mind  me — Vignon'll  go  an'  go 
hard  when  it  comes  to  a  fight,  Dan,  an'  ye  know  it.  He 
sure  fixed  up  that  stall  in  there,  I  tell  ye.  He  wanted  fer 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  99 

to  make  it  look  like  ye  are  a  sore-head  an'  want  to  run 
ev'rything  in  the  League  to  suit  yerself.  Ye  see?  He's 
sendin'  ye  in  wrong  with  the  rest  of  the  bunch." 

"Kismet",  said  Dan  philosophically,  extending  his 
hands  before  him. 

"What  say?"  asked  Paddy,  eyeing  him  closely. 

"Merely, — let  it  go  at  that",  answered  Bradshaw, 
conclusively. 

Bradshaw  heard  of  Norton's  return  on  Saturday. 
And  after  he  came  on  top  and  changed  his  clothes,  Dan 
went  to  the  Monticana  building.  But  there  he  was  in- 
formed that  the  mine  owner  was  not  in  his  office  and  was 
not  expected  back  there  that  day,  as  he  had  completed  his 
Butte  business  preparatory  to  leaving  for  New  York.  So 
Dan  resolved  to  go  to  the  Norton  home  in  the  evening  and 
endeavor  to  see  the  mine  owner  there.  For  Bradshaw 
wanted  to  rectify  the  wrong  if  he  could,  that  he  felt  had 
been  done  Jackson  and  the  other  four  men  in  question. 
Also,  he  was  well  aware  that  if  he  failed  to  see  Norton 
after  having  let  it  be  known  he  intended  to  carry  the 
case  directly  to  him,  his  leadership  in  the  League  would 
be  seriously  threatened. 

On  his  way  from  the  boarding  house  that  evening, 
Dan  ran  into  Jackson. 

"News  fer  you,  Bradshaw",  Jackson  greeted  him. 
"Us  fellers  in  that  case  you're  to  investigate  got  jobs 
today.  We  wasn't  afraid,  Dan,  that  you  couldn't  get  us 
back  in  the  Mont,  but  as  long  as  we  had  a  chance  to  go 
to  work  we  thought  we'd  best  do  it." 

"Good  for  you!"  said  Bradshaw,  "but  I've  got  to  go 
on  with  the  affair  because  there  is  a  principle  involved. 
It's  a  matter  of  justice  to  the  men  and  to  the  ownership. 
I  think  Norton  would  appreciate  knowing  everything 
that  goes  on  in  his  properties." 


100  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

A  street  car  took  Dan  within  a  block  of  the  Norton 
mansion.  Soon  he  was  walking  briskly  up  the  wide,  ce- 
ment roadway  that  swept  in  ample  curve  around  three 
big  trees  to  a  short  distance  in  front  of  the  broad,  stone 
steps  leading  to  the  pillared  veranda. 

In  response  to  his  request  to  see  DeWitt  Norton,  the 
housemaid  who  answered  the  ring  of  the  door-bell,  bade 
him  step  into  the  spacious  reception  hall.  There  he  stood 
waiting  the  return  of  the  maid. 

She  was  back  in  a  surprisingly  short  time. 

"Mr.  Norton  asks  that  you  wait  a  moment  in  the 
library",  she  told  him,  conducting  him  to  a  big,  book- 
lined  room  that  at  once  won  Dan's  heart.  He  was  stand- 
ing at  a  book  shelf  beside  the  wide  and  evidently  much 
used  fireplace,  looking  at  the  titles  of  the  volumes,  when 
the  sound  of  a  girl's  voice  caused  him  to  turn  around. 
As  he  did  so  Mary  Norton  and  Margaret  Hanlon  entered 
the  library  from  the  drawing  room.  At  first  they  did 
not  see  him. 

And  then  for  a  brief  moment  Mary  Norton  was  look- 
ing straight  at  Dan  Bradshaw.  Involuntarily  he  raised 
his  head,  momentarily  taken  off  his  guard,  for  here,  in- 
deed, was  the  girl  of  the  roadway  above  Carty's — "The 
Girl  of  the  Train." 

For  a  fleeting  instant  her  eyes  widened.  And  then 
came  a  moment  of  hesitancy — a  moment  pregnant  with 
possibilities,  as  the  man  and  the  girl  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

Words  came  pounding  in  Dan's  brain. 

"Do  you  know  me?  Are  you  glad  to  see  me?"  But, 
slightly  bowing  his  head,  he  managed :  "I  beg  your  par- 
don— I  am  waiting  for  Mr.  Norton." 

She  smiled  in  the  way  he  so  well  remembered.  "I 
am  sure  my  brother  will  be  here  right  away",  she  said. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  101 

Then  with  a  friendly  little  nod,  she  stepped  back,  and 
with  her  friend  left  the  room. 

On  their  way  upstairs,  the  two  girls  met  Norton  de- 
scending. 

"Who  is  the  man  waiting  for  you  in  the  library,  De- 
Witt?"  demanded  his  sister. 

"His  name  is  Bradshaw",  answered  Norton. 

"The  man  you  said  Mr.  Walton  meant  when  he  told 
us  of  his  friend  in  the  mine?"  she  questioned. 

"The  very  same",  Norton  nodded,  as  he  proceeded 

down  stairs  to  meet  the  miner. 

*  *         *         *         * 

"Romance  with  a  vengeance !"  remarked  Margaret  as 
she  and  Mary  went  to  the  latter's  sitting  room.  "He 
doesn't  look  anything  like  an  anarchist." 

"He's  not  supposed  to  be  one",  said  Mary.  "He's 
some  sort  of  a  labor  leader."  Then,  more  slowly ;  "But  if 
he's  really  an  anarchist  he  must  be  one  of  a  new  school 
of  anarchy  that  believes  in  looking  neat  and  indulging  in 
becoming  haircuts." 

#  *         *         *        * 

Norton  greeted  Bradshaw  in  a  friendly  but  very  busi- 
nesslike way.  For  the  mine  owner  was  no  novice  in  the 
matter  of  special  visits  from  labor  leaders  or  employes. 

"Mr.  Norton,  I  regret  having  had  to  disturb  you  this 
evening",  Dan  began,  "but  I  had  to  see  you  before  you 
left  town.  I've  come  about  an  injustice  to  five  men  who 
were  miners  at  the  Mont."  Then  he  briefly  gave  the  de- 
tails of  the  case. 

"Isn't  this  a  matter  which  properly  should  have  been 
taken  up  first  with  the  foreman  or  superintendent  of  the 
Mont?"  asked  Norton  coolly,  resting  his  strong,  capable 
hands  on  the  arms  of  his  chair  and  leaning  forward  as  if 
to  arise.  "If  they  refused  to  consider  the  matter,  it 


102  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

would   receive  my  prompt  consideration  whether  you 
reached  me  personally  or  by  written  communication." 

"It  is  not  a  question  now  of  the  men's  reinstate- 
ment", said  Dan.  "They  have  secured  work  elsewhere, 
but  there  is  a  principle  involved  that  should  be  consid- 
ered." 

"And  the  League  is  very  much  concerned  in  the  jus- 
tice part  of  the  proposition",  remarked  Norton.  "Go 
on." 

"We  admit  that  some  men  have  been  discharged  for 
good  cause",  Dan  continued.  "In  fact  there  was  an  in- 
vestigation as  to  a  couple  of  them  fired  from  the  Golden 
West  for  twisting  off  a  switch  lever.  Maybe  you  heard 
of  the  incident?" 

"I  did." 

"The  League  was  told  that  those  two  men  deserved  to 
be  discharged." 

"Who  told  the  League  that?" 

Bradshaw's  eyebrows  contracted  slightly.  "That  was 
a  matter  of  committee  report." 

Norton  smiled  slightly.    "I  see." 

"As  for  these  five  men  now  in  question,  I  can  vouch 
for  their  good  character.  The  point  we  wish  to  make  is 
that  a  mine  worker  who  might  incur  the  enmity  of  a 
shift  boss  could  be  summarily  thrown  out  of  work  and 
perhaps  discredited  with  the  other  mining  companies." 

"We  want  no  petty  tyrants  in  the  mines",  declared 
Norton,  "and  we  are  getting  rid  of  them  as  quickly  as 
possible.  But  I  still  say  that  you  should  first  have  taken 
this  matter  up  with  the  foreman  or  the  superintendent, 
both  of  whom  are  just  men  in  every  way  and  are  entitled 
to  the  courtesy  of  the  first  say." 

"Mr.  Norton,  were  these  five  men  fired  because  they 
are  members  of  the  League?"  asked  Bradshaw. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  103 

Norton  stood  up  and  the  miner  did  likewise.  "I  don't 
like  your  question",  declared  the  mine  owner.  "It  pre- 
supposes coercion  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But  since 
you've  asked  that  question,  I'll  ask  you  one  in  return. 
Isn't  it  so  that  the  League  is  only  a  Direct  Actionist 
lodge?" 

"Direct  Actionist  control  is  what  I  and  those  with 
me  are  fighting",  replied  Bradshaw,  "and  if  we  are  suc- 
cessful in  getting  justice  for  League  members  in  some 
things,  we  can  prevent  the  Direct  Actionists  from  con- 
trolling the  League." 

"Bradshaw",  said  Norton  emphatically,  "you  can't 
convince  even  yourself  that  the  League  is  not  controlled 
by  the  Direct  Actionists.  Not  only  are  most  of  its  mem- 
bers spouting  Direct  Actionist  ideas  in  the  mines,  but 
actually  are  trying  to  practice  sabotage  with  a  view  to 
more  concerted  action  of  that  kind.  Direct  Actionism  is 
a  threat  against  the  welfare  of  this  nation  and  if  it  con- 
tinues, the  time  must  come  when  the  government  will 
have  to  recognize  it  as  a  grave  danger  and  act  accord- 
ingly." 

"I  am  no  Direct  Actionist",  Bradshaw  maintained 
stoutly. 

"Then  you're  in  damn  bad  company",  Norton  replied 
vigorously. 

"As  long  as  you  suspect  me,  too",  exclaimed  Brad- 
shaw, "I  may  as  well  say  I'm  through  working  for  you." 

"I  never  ask  a  man  who  works  for  me  what  his 
religion  is,  how  he  votes  or  anything  else  personal  so 
long  as  he  delivers  the  goods.  I  hire  his  efficiency,  that's 
all.  Direct  Actionism  is  unworthy,  un-American  and 
tends  to  disrupt  industrial  harmony.  Your  personal 
purpose  may  be  good,  but  you  are  in  with  a  bad  lot  for 


104  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

all  your  altruistic  notions,  and  sometime  you  may  find 
that  out  to  your  regret." 

"I'll  take  that  chance",  returned  Bradshaw.  "But 
I'm  not  going  to  stand  for  dictation." 

Norton's  nostrils  dilated  as  they  had  a  way  of  doing 
when  anger  mastered  him.  "I  don't  want  to  dictate  to 
you",  he  said  emphatically.  "Do  as  you  please.  I  am 
entirely  too  busy  to  bother  about  your  views  or  your 
plans." 

Bradshaw  retorted  with  equal  heat.  "I  may  not  be 
important  to  you,  but  I  am  very  important  to  myself  and 
I  hope  to  be  important  to  certain  others.  What  I  said 
about  being  through  working  for  you  goes — I'm 
through."  He  made  a  gesture  as  though  sweeping  some- 
thing aside. 

Norton  reached  out,  touched  a  button  on  the  wall,  and 
almost  immediately  the  housemaid  appeared  in  the  arch- 
way. 

"This  gentleman  is  leaving",  Norton  said  crisply. 
*         *         *         *         # 

Just  enough  coal  was  glowing  in  the  grate  of  the 
fireplace  in  Margaret  Hanlon's  room  to  cast  little  string- 
ers of  reflection  on  the  opposite  wall  and  cause  momen- 
tary flickers  on  burnished  mahogany. 

Mary  Norton  was  enjoying  the  comfort  of  a  divan 
of  pillows  she  had  constructed  for  herself  on  the  furry 
rug  beside  Margaret's  chaise-lounge  facing  the  fireplace, 
her  feet  tucked  under  her,  the  tip  of  a  blue  Turkish 
slipper  peeping  from  beneath  the  edge  of  her  blue  silk 
kimona.  Her  loosened  hair  hung,  thick  and  wavy,  about 
her  shoulders,  framing  her  charming  face  with  a  fluffy 
aureole  in  which  deepest  auburn  tints  were  disclosed  by 
the  fire-glow. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  105 

As  she  sat  there  with  such  comfortable  insouciance, 
Mary  had  a  certain  piquant  youthfulness  that  revealed 
another  phase  of  her  beauty. 

"It  seems  just  like  a  story  in  a  book" — she  was  say- 
ing— "his  coming  here.  You  know,  Margaret  dear,  one 
of  my  pet  illusions  now  and  forever  more  is  gone — For 
how  can  I  ever  again  picture  an  anarchist  as  I  always 
have  done  now  that  my  anarchist  has  come  attired  in  a 
neat  blue  suit  that  fits  him,  neat  shoes,  neat  tie  and  with 
his  hair  cut  most  becomingly?" 

"And  perhaps  a  bomb  in  his  pocket",  Margaret 
teased,  "which  he  forgets  to  hurl  when  overcome  by  the 
fair  princess  he  encounters  so  unexpectedly." 

Mary  smiled  enigmatically.  "I  could  imprison  you 
forever  on  bread  and  water  for  such  an  idea,  Margaret 
Hanlon!"  she  exclaimed.  "Such  a  one  comes  not  with  a 
bomb  in  his  pocket,  but  with  weighty  platitudes  in 
mind!" 

"Perhaps,  my  princess,  perhaps",  said  Margaret,  gaz- 
ing at  the  coals  with  half-closed  eyes. 

"And  the  build  of  him  and  the  strength!"  remarked 
Mary  deliberately.  "I  would  like  to  see  him  engaged  in 
the  masterful  feat  of  knocking  down — say — two  ruf- 
fians." 

"And  why  two,  pray?"  demanded  Margaret. 

"Oh,  because  I  should  imagine  he  could  do  it  so  com- 
pletely", replied  Mary  Norton.  And  again  she  smiled 
her  enigmatic  smile. 

*         *         *         *         * 

Bradshaw  walked  to  his  boarding  house  with  many 
thoughts  racing  through  his  mind.  He  again  had  come 
face  to  face  with  the  girl  who  so  often  had  been  in  his 
thoughts — and  she  was  Norton's  sister,  and  Dan  had 
quarreled  with  the  mine  owner.  So,  if  Mary  Norton 


106  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

knew  anything  of  him  at  all  she,  too,  might  think  he  was 
a  discordant  Direct  Actionist.  Where  had  gone  all  his 
plans  for  true  leadership? 

Dan  laughted  a  short,  bitter  laugh.  How  unattain- 
able this  girl  now  seemed  and  how  vain  his  dreams  of 
her! 

Arrived  at  his  room,  he  divested  himself  of  hat  and 
coat  and  moving  the  room's  plain  wooden  table  to  a 
place  of  vantage  beneath  the  single  electric  drop,  Dan 
took  from  the  table's  drawer  some  papers,  ink,  pen  and 
ruler,  and  pulling  up  a  chair,  endeavored  to  engage  him- 
self in  the  task  of  working  out  more  details  of  his  mine 
cage  safety  clutch.  But  he  could  not  bring  the  proper 
concentration  to  bear  on  his  work.  Over  and  over  again 
he  re-enacted  in  his  mind  his  meeting  with  Norton's  sis- 
ter in  the  library  of  her  home — his  scene  with  Norton. 
He  thought  of  his  attempted  defense  of  the  League  de- 
spite his  realization  of  the  League's  tendency.  "I  made 
a  melodramatic  donkey  of  myself,"  he  summed  it  all  up. 
And  then  he  tried  again  to  devote  himself  to  his  inven- 
tion. But  Dan  was  again  interrupted.  Someone 
knocked  at  his  door.  It  was  Paddy  Skiff,  and  it  was 
plain  from  Paddy  Skiff's  expression  that  he  had  news  of 
importance.  He  came  in  quickly  and  closed  the  door. 
"Lad,"  Paddy  said  excitedly,  "there's  somethin'  poppin' 
fer  sure.  Don't  disbelieve  me.  Vignon,  Wilkins  an' 
Snitch,  the  murderin'  bunch,  has  bin  plottin'  all  ev'nin — 
I  heard  'em  up  at  Carty's.  They've  gone  out  in  direc- 
tion of  Nortin's." 

"Quick  man — tell  me  all",  Dan  commanded,  grasping 
Paddy  by  the  shoulder. 

"They  was  drinkin'  some",  Paddy  went  on  hurriedly, 
"an*  they  was  sittin'  back  of  the  partition  where  the 
wine-room  used  to  be.  I  was  sittin'  next  the  other  side 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  107 

of  the  partition."  Then  he  continued  quickly  to  tell 
Bradshaw  of  the  plan  he  had  overheard.  "They  may  be 
reckless",  he  finally  concluded. 

"I  think  it's  all  a  big  bluff",  declared  Bradshaw, 
hastily  putting  on  his  hat  and  coat,  "but  I'm  going  out 
there,  too — that's  the  way  to  save  time.  No  use  trying 
to  kick  up  an  alarm  now  for  if  anything  happens  it'll  be 
all  over  before  any  general  steps  can  be  taken  to  stop  it." 

Dan  rushed  from  the  boarding  house  along  Working 
Lane  to  where  the  street  cars  passed  and  swung  him- 
self aboard  one  bound  for  the  center  of  the  city.  Ar- 
rived there,  Dan  jumped  into  a  waiting  taxicab  and 
urged  defiance  of  the  traffic  laws.  Half  a  block  from  the 
Norton  home  he  dismissed  the  taxi  and  walked  quickly 
towards  the  house  which  stood  there,  a  solid  refutation 
of  the  fears  that  had  been  growing  within  him.  He  did 
not  turn  in  at  the  gateway,  but  walked  past  it  for  a  few 
yards.  Then,  glancing  hastily  in  either  direction  along 
the  thoroughfare,  Dan  pulled  himself  to  the  top  and  let 
himself  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  stone  wall  that 
separated  the  Norton  grounds  from  the  pavement.  He 
was  then  amidst  some  trees  which,  almost  denuded  of 
their  midsummer  verdure,  afforded  a  very  incomplete 
screen.  As  he  went  forward,  two  sturdy  figures  moving 
stealthily  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall,  carefully  fol- 
lowed him.  In  the  shadow  of  a  big  tree  and  where  a 
box  hedge  ran  along  between  Dan  and  the  sweep  of 
lawn  that  ended  in  shrubbery,  fringing  the  mansion's 
abutting  conservatory,  the  miner  stopped.  The  two  fig- 
ures, still  masked  by  the  trees,  did  likewise. 

Bradshaw  contemplated  the  house.  Lights  were 
burning  on  the  first  as  well  as  on  the  upper  floors.  The 
ornamental  bronze  veranda  lamps  that  flanked  the  wide 
oaken  doors,  were  brightly  aglow. 


108  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

There  was  a  night  stillness,  punctuated  now  and  then 
by  notes  of  activity  that  came  from  the  heart  of  the  city 
and  the  Hill. 

Bradshaw  was  trying  to  decide  whether  or  not  he  had 
acted  foolishly  in  coming  instead  of  telephoning  to  Nor- 
ton, but  he  blamed  his  action,  if  wrong,  on  his  natural 
man-desire  to  be  present  and  participate,  if  neeoT  be,  in 
preventing  what  he  feared  might  occur.  He  did  not 
want  Norton  harmed — he  would  do  his  best  to  prevent 
any  sort  of  outrage  for  the  sake  of  law  and  order,  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  people's  welfare, — and — overwhelm- 
ingly, because  here  he  would  fight  and  die  if  need  be  for 
the  sake  of  Mary  Norton — Yes,  that  was  it.  That  was 
the  great  and  paramount  consideration — to  protect  Nor- 
ton's sister  from  any  chance  of  harm. 

*  *         *         *         * 

And  at  that  moment,  Vignon,  Wilkins  and  Snitch 
were  seated  at  a  table  at  Carty's.  "There  ain't  no  use 
tryin'  to  pull  any  of  that  stuff,"  Vignon  was  admonish- 
ing his  companions,  "out  at  a  place  like  that  jus'  to  start 
somethin*  an'  throw  a  scare  into  a  few  of  'em  'roun'  this 
town.  There's  other  ways." 

*  *         *         *         * 

As  Bradshaw  was  pondering  his  next  step  two  pow- 
erful figures  came  quickly  up  behind  him  and  hurled 
themselves  on  him  so  that  he  went  headlong  to  the 
ground.  Followed  a  heart-breaking  tussle,  but  a  third 
man  came  running  across  the  lawn  and  the  struggle  was 
brought  to  an  end.  Presently  Bradshaw,  with  his  hands 
manacled  behind  his  back,  was  being  scrutinized  by  his 
three  captors  in  the  light  of  an  electric  flash  lamp. 

"We'll  take  him  over  to  the  house  and  let  Mr.  Norton 
have  a  look  at  him",  announced  the  man  with  the  light. 
"Come  along." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  109 

Bradshaw,  recovering  from  the  daze  of  the  brief  but 
fierce  melee,  knew  it  was  useless  to  resist  the  order  given 
him. 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  miner  once  more  faced 
DeWitt  Norton  in  the  library  from  which  he  had  de- 
parted in  anger  but  two  hours  before.  Bradshaw  caught 
the  glint  of  a  revolver  handle  in  the  pocket  of  Norton's 
bath-robe. 

When  Norton  saw  the  prisoner,  he  started  in  sur- 
prise. "You  did  all  right,  boys,  but  take  off  his  hand- 
cuffs and  leave  him  here  with  me,"  Norton  ordered,  much 
to  the  amazement  of  the  three  captors. 

"But  Mr." — began  the  spokesman  of  the  trio,  who 
had  taken  Bradshaw.  The  mine-owner  was  quick  to  in- 
terrupt him.  "It's  all  right,  Chief — just  leave  him  with 
me.  I  can  take  care  of  myself  and  I  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  him." 

"He  may  be  armed",  suggested  the  "Chief",  as  he  re- 
moved the  handcuffs  from  the  miner's  wrists. 

"I  am  not  armed,"  Bradshaw  said  quickly. 

"Go  ahead,  boys — and  many  thanks",  said  Norton, 
following  the  three  captors  as  they  reluctantly  withdrew 
to  the  front  door. 

Bradshaw  was  standing  just  where  Norton  had  left 
him  when  the  mine  owner  returned. 

"Well — what  is  it,  Bradshaw?"  demanded  Norton. 

And  Dan  told  him,  quietly,  briefly  and,  as  he  hoped, 
convincingly  while  the  mine  owner  listened  intently.  "I'll 
accept  what  you  say,"  Norton  said  finally.  "I  feel  under 
some  obligation  to  you — at  least,  to  that  extent.  Don't 
think  I've  forgotten  your  presence  of  mind  in  that 
'gopher-hole'  affair." 

Unexpectedly  Mary  Norton  appeared  in  the  reception 
hall  archway  of  the  library. 


110  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"What  is  it  DeWitt?"  she  asked,  coming  quickly  over 
to  her  brother.  "I  heard  scuffling  and  then  a  little  later 
the  front  door  closing.  So  I  decided  to  come  down  and 
investigate  for  myself."  As  she  spoke  she  looked  in  sur- 
prise at  the  disheveled  miner. 

"Mr.  Bradshaw  and  I  are  talking",  Norton  said 
gently.  "You  run  along  upstairs.  There  is  no  excite- 
ment whatever." 

"Of  course  not  being  a  child",  Mary  declared  with 
some  asperity,  "I  can  see  there  has  been  something  un- 
usual here.  What  is  it?"  And  as  she  spoke,  Bradshaw 
noted  the  striking  similarity  of  facial  strength  between 
brother  and  sister. 

"Merely  this" — Norton  concisely  sketched  the  cir- 
cumstances of  Bradshaw's  return  to  the  house,  his  cap- 
ture and  his  presence  in  the  library.  "Mr.  Bradshaw  is 
at  liberty  to  go  just  as  soon  as  I  can  tell  the  Chief",  he 
finished. 

Mary  laid  a  hand  on  Norton's  arm.  "Mr.  Bradshaw", 
she  said,  "once  saved  me  from  annoyance  up  on  the  mine 
road." 

"Apparently  the  Norton  family  is  under  considerable 
obligation  to  you,  Bradshaw",  observed  Norton  dryly  as 
he  stepped  over  to  the  library  table  and  pressed  a  but- 
ton. Almost  at  once  a  door  opened  and  closed,  and  the 
man  designated  as  the  "Chief"  came  into  the  room. 

"This  man",  Norton  said,  indicating  Bradshaw,  "is 
leaving  now.  See  that  he  is  not  annoyed." 

The  "Chief"  nodded,  and  withdrew. 

"Concerning  your  expressed  determination  about  em- 
ployment", said  Norton  to  Dan — "that  is  optional  with 
you." 


BORN  OF   THE   CRUCIBLE  111 

So,  a  second  time  that  night,  Dan  Bradshaw  left  the 
house  of  DeWitt  Norton  in  a  very  unsettled  state  of 
mind. 

After  the  miner  had  reached  the  thoroughfare,  the 
"Chief"  returned  to  the  library  where  Norton  was  await- 
ing him.  "He's  well  along  on  his  way  now,  Mr.  Norton", 
he  reported.  "I'm  sorry  if  we" — 

"You  and  your  men  acted  very  promptly",  Norton 
cut  in. 

"I'm  glad  our  work  suits  you",  said  the  other  with  a 
smile. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Norton. 

"No." 

"Then  forget  all  about  his  having  been  here." 

Mary  was  waiting  at  the"  head  of  the  stairs  when  her 
brother  came  up. 

"Well  Mary",  he  said,  "now  our  young  man  of  the 
hot-headed  disposition  has  gone  away  with  the  notion 
that  we  employ  armed  guards  here  at  night  just  because 
the  watchmen  we  have  when  the  house  is  closed  came  to 
work  a  day  sooner  than  usual.  For  the  sake  of  my  repu- 
tation I  was  almost  tempted  to  let  him  know  the  truth, 
but  I  thought  it  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  for  the  impres- 
tion  to  prevail  that  no  outrages  can  be  perpetrated  here." 

"You  really  do  think  he  meant  to  perform  a  valuable 
service,  don't  you?"  she  asked. 

Norton  rubbed  his  chin  reflectively.  "At  his  age", 
he  said  slowly,  "I  too,  had  quite  an  appreciation  of  the 
dramatic.  If  there  is  any  benefit  of  a  doubt  we  might 
give  it  to  him,  I  suppose." 

Bradshaw  went  directly  to  Carty's.  And  as  he 
walked  slowly  along  he  contemplated  himself  bitterly. 
What  a  fool  he  had  made  of  himself !  What  a  ridiculous 
figure  he  must  have  been  to  her — the  girl  for  whose 


112  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

sake,  after  all,  he  had  been  led  into  his  mistake.  No 
doubt  Norton  did  not  believe  his  story  of  why  he  had 
returned  to  the  house.  Perhaps  even  the  girl  suspected 
that  he  had  fabricated  his  account  of  a  threatened  out- 
rage so  that  he  could  pose  as  a  hero  and  thus  try  to  win 
the  mine  owner's  favor.  And  the  more  Bradshaw  pon- 
dered on  the  latter  theory,  the  more  distorted  became  his 
perspective.  He  swallowed  several  burning  drinks  of 
whisky.  Had  not  Norton  tossed  him  immunity  from 
arrest  as  a  bone  might  have  been  tossed  to  a  dog? 

So  thought  this  man  of  temporarily  illogical  reason- 
ing. He  felt  abashed,  humiliated  and  resentful.  And 
what  was  it  Norton  had  said  about  retaining  his  posi- 
tion? Did  not  that  merely  mean  that  if  he  chose  to  re- 
main at  work  in  the  Mont,  Norton  would  tolerate  him 
there?  Well — he  wouldn't  stay  in  the  Mont.  He 
wouldn't  be  treated  that  way. 

And  what  it  is  that  makes  a  man — strong  mentally 
and  physically — for  a  brief  period,  lose  entire  grip  on 
himself  when  trying  in  stress  of  abnormal  mental  proc- 
esses to  return  to  a  more  rational  and  logical  reasoning 
by  an  illogical  method,  is  something  that  is  obscured  in 
the  inner  recesses  of  man-nature.  That  is  to  say  that  in 
trying  to  steady  himself  that  night,  Dan  Bradshaw  for 
the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life,  drank  to  fearful  excess. 

Through  the  mystic  hours  of  the  night  shadows  from 
midnight  to  dawn  when  forces  for  good  and  evil  some- 
times seem  to  struggle  for  mastery,  this  now  unseeing, 
unheeding,  reason-bereft  man  wandered  pitifully 
through  the  dark.  Nor  when  day  came  did  he  report  for 
duty  at  the  Mont,  nor  ever  again  thereafter  did  he  work 
there. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  113 

For  when  daylight  began  to  pencil  a  thin,  grayish 
line  at  the  top  of  the  Great  Divide  and  a  glimmering  of 
reason  returned  to  Dan  Bradshaw,  he,  disordered  in  ap- 
pearance, in  body  and  mind,  stumbled  to  his  room,  threw 
himself  on  his  bed — and  sank  into  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER  XII 
DOLDRUMS 

Bradshaw  drifted  aimlessly  between  Carty's  saloon 
and  Klemner's  shop. 

At  the  shoemaker's  Dan  would  sit  with  his  head  in 
his  hands.  And  while  Millie  was  pleased  that  Brad- 
shaw's  visits  no  longer  involved  the  tedium  of  grammar 
lesson  discussions,  she  wished  he  would  act  less  like  the 
chief  mourner  at  a  funeral.  However,  several  times  Mil- 
lie made  tea  for  him  and  insisted  on  his  drinking  it. 

Once,  when  idly  regarding  her  over  his  tea  cup,  Dan 
wondered  if  men  who  had  been  inspired  by  Mary  Nor- 
tons,  ever  came  to  be  content  with  Millie  Klemners.  He 
speculated  on  what  manner  of  drag  she  might  be  to  a 
man  who  would  and  could  work  his  way  to  great  success 
and  then  immediately  he  felt  a  keen  disgust  with  him- 
self. All  he  had  done  in  the  past  week  had  been  to  se- 
cure a  rustling  card  from  one  of  the  mining  companies. 
When  Millie  took  the  empty  cup  from  him,  their  fingers 
touched,  but  Dan  merely  looked  down  and  smiled  to  him- 
self. Soon  afterwards  he  left. 

"She's  a  damn  fine  animal",  he  remarked  to  himself 
outside  the  door. 

At  Carty's  Dan  met  Paddy  Skiff  who  evidently  had 
been  waiting  for  him.  Paddy  conducted  him  to  a  corner 
table  and  when  they  were  seated,  Paddy  regarded  Brad- 
shaw intently. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  115 

"Lad,  what's  the  matter  with  ye?"  he  asked  almost 
softly. 

Dan  looked  at  him  with  raised  eyebrows.  "Do  you 
observe  anything  unusual  in  me,  my  inquiring  friend?" 
he  questioned  somewhat  indolently.  "If  so,  let  us  dis- 
cuss it  over  a  social  'alf-and-'alf." 

Paddy  tapped  on  the  table.  "Listen",  he  commanded, 
"there's  a  dom  sight  more  important  business  right  now 
fer  ye  than  'alf-and-'alves." 

"Some  more  contemplated  outrages?"  asked  Brad- 
shaw  drawlingly  and  smiled. 

"Now  don't  get  yer  dander  up,  me  boy",  returned 
Paddy.  "Dan,  ye  must  sand  yer  track  fer  yer  slippin' 
fast.  There's  need  of  ye  if  the  League  is  to  be  saved  an' 
a  lot  of  trouble  to  be  prevented.  The  League's  goin'  to 
infernal  blazes  like  a  shot." 

"And  with  my  compliments",  declared  Bradshaw. 
Then  he  called  the  floor  boy  and  ordered  drinks  for 
Paddy  and  himself. 

While  there  was  no  disposition  on  the  part  of  the 
League  at  its  next  meeting  to  give  Bradshaw  much  credit 
for  having  presented  the  case  of  Jackson  and  the  four 
others  to  Norton,  yet  the  fact  that  Bradshaw  had  left 
his  place  as  shift  boss  in  the  Mont  and  gone  to  mucking 
for  another  company  checked  much  of  the  criticism  that 
otherwise  might  have  been  directed  at  him. 

Dan  did  not  tell  of  what  had  transpired  between  Nor- 
ton and  himself  and  the  League  understood  that  their 
meeting  had  been  a  very  quiet,  formal  affair.  The  mem- 
bers also  noted  that  when  Bradshaw  made  his  report  it 
was  not  with  his  quondam  energetic,  upstanding  way. 
Having  made  his  report,  Dan  lapsed  into  moody  silence. 
The  session  over,  Dan  went  to  his  room  where  he  sat 


116  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

wearily  on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  his  head  in  his  hands. 
Soon  Paddy  Skiff  came  in  with  a  letter  from  Walton. 

"Vignon's  gettin'  fierce",  he  remarked,  after  Dan  had 
read  his  letter.  "He's  braggin'  of  how  he's  done  fer  you 
in  the  League,  an'  he's  makin'  some  raw  cracks  as  to 
startin'  trouble  or  a  strike  or  somethin'." 

Something  of  his  former  alertness  showed  in  Brad- 
shaw's  demeanor  as  he  sat  up  straight.  "He's  doing  that, 
is  he?" 

Paddy's  eyes  sparkled  at  the  other's  renewed  anima- 
tion. "Sure",  he  declared,  "there's  somethin'  brewin'." 

And  Paddy  Skiff  was  right.  Not  only  was  there 
something  brewing,  but  that  very  night  it  bubbled  over. 

A  group  of  figures  stealing  up  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness to  a  mine  gate  brought  a  challenge  from  a  watch- 
man, who,  without  more  ado,  fired  his  revolver.  A  fusil- 
lade came  back  at  him  and  other  guards  came  running 
to  the  watchman's  aid,  whereupon  the  approaching  group 
broke  and  ran  down  the  hill,  leaving  a  wounded  watch- 
man, a  gunny  sack  containing  several  sticks  of  dynamite, 
some  detonating  caps  and  fuse. 

The  news  spread  quickly  by  word  of  mouth  before 
there  could  be  a  newspaper  account  of  it,  and  naturally 
rumor  exaggerated  its  import.  The  entire  affair  not 
only  was  abortive,  but  the  very  apparent  hopelessness 
of  the  success  of  any  such  attempt  made  it  look  sus- 
piciously as  though  it  had  been  planned  with  an  ulterior 
motive. 

Paddy  Skiff  woke  Bradshaw  out  of  a  sound  sleep  to 
tell  him  about  it. 

"An'  now  let  me  say  this" — Paddy  spoke  emphat- 
ically— "I  have  the  inner  certainty  that  if  Vignon  an'  his 
gang  kin  cause  the  impression — Oh  dom  it  man",  he 
broke  out,  "Vignon  wants  yer  scalp.  Yer  the  stumblin' 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  117 

block  in  his  way.  Why,  only  tonight  I  heard  he's  bin 
spreadin'  the  dope  that  ye've  bin  a  dangerous  sore-head 
ever  since  ye  left  the  Mont,  an'  I  was  told  that  'tis  his 
plan  first  to  git  ye  in  bad  an'  took  out  of  the  way  an' 
then  make  the  League  a  real  branch  of  the  national 
Direc'  Action  organization.  Fer  a  week  I  bin  tryin'  to 
make  ye  see  reason  an'  make  ye  be  the  grand  fightin' 
man  ye  was  before." 

An  expression  of  resolve  showed  on  Bradshaw's  face. 
"We'll  have  the  cards  on  the  table  at  tomorrow  night's 
meeting  of  the  League",  he  said  tersely.  "There  ought 
to  be  some  more  fight  left  in  me." 

"Lad, — Lad,  I  could  hug  ye  fer  them  words!"  ex- 
claimed Paddy,  his  eyes  sparkling. 

"Meantime",  remarked  Bradshaw,  "I  must  be  forti- 
fied by  the  sleep  of  the  just  and  the  weary." 

Paddy  held  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  patient  res- 
ignation— and  left  Bradshaw  to  return  to  his  slumbers. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  TEMPEST 

"This  is  the  idea,  Paddy: — no  man  with  half  an 
ounce  of  decency  is  going  to  stand  for  outrages." 

Bradshaw,  pouring  frequent  libations  of  'alf-and-'alf 
on  the  altar  of  his  devotion  to  decency,  was  speaking  to 
Paddy  Skiff  across  their  favorite  table  at  Carty's. 

"Those  in  the  League,  as  it  now  stands",  he  went  on, 
"who  want  the  sort  of  thing  that  was  tried  last  night 
when  that  watchman  was  shot,  want  to  make  a  criminal 
band  out  of  an  organization  that  ought  to  represent  en- 
tirely different  purposes  if  it's  going  to  exist  at  all.  You 
and  I  know  from  what  we've  heard  today  that  many  per- 
sons suspect  the  League  of  harboring  the  perpetrators  of 
last  night's  outrage.  We  can't  stand  for  it.  My  idea, 
Paddy,  is  a  reorganization  of  the  League  cutting  out  all 
the  Direct  Actionists." 

"Also  ye  best  be  cuttin'  out  some  of  the  lubrication 
yer  after  oilin'  yer  ideas  with",  said  Paddy. 

Bradshaw  refused  to  grow  angered  at  his  friend. 
"Positively  Paddy,  you're  nothing  but  a  croaker — a 
downright  croaker",  he  said  in  what  he  meant  to  be  a 
bantering  tone.  Trust  me  to  be  at  the  League  meeting 
tonight  and  start  something." 

Paddy  looked  quizzically  at  him.  "Startin'  is  yer 
strong  point  these  days,  me  Laddie — but  kin  ye  finish? 
Aye,  that's  it — kin  any  of  us  finish?"  and  Paddy  heaved 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  119 

a  sigh  as  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  buxom  and  highly 
independent  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity. 

Leaving  Carty's,  Bradshaw  left  the  devoted  swain  at 
the  boarding  house  door  and  continued  on  to  see  if  he 
could  meet  Cronel  at  Klemner's,  as  the  League's  presi- 
dent frequently  could  be  found  at  the  shop  at  that  time 
of  day. 

Much  as  Bradshaw  had  lost  that  clear  and  hard- 
headed  mental  grasp  of  himself; — much  as  he  really  was 
being  tortured  in  the  fiery  crucible  of  his  own  making, — 
he  was  angered  and  disgusted  by  what  had  come  about 
in  League  affairs.  Dan  was  disillusioned  as  to  its  status. 
He  believed  that  his  reorganization  plan  alone  would 
save  the  League. 

While  Millie  Klemner  waited  patiently  in  the  little 
dining  room,  now  and  then  darting  a  look  through  the 
open  doorway  into  the  shop,  Bradshaw  was  out- 
lining his  reorganization  idea  to  Cronel  and  Klem- 
ner. Dan  argued  that  by  this  time  the  police  author- 
ities must  be  watching  the  League  and  League  head- 
quarters, and  that  a  better  declaration  of  principles  was 
imperative.  He  proposed  not  only  to  call  together  the 
conservative  members  to  effect  the  new  organization  and 
the  positive  exclusion  of  Direct  Actionists,  but  he  de- 
cided also  to  change  its  title.  Still,  there  was  a  lack  of 
coherency  in  Dan's  method  of  presenting  his  theories  re- 
garding the  subject  that  detracted  materially  from  the 
force  of  his  arguments.  Even  to  himself,  Bradshaw  ad- 
mitted that  he  certainly  was  not  at  his  best  in  the  ex- 
planation of  his  new  organization  plans. 

After  an  hour  or  more  of  argument  Bradshaw  left 
the  shoemaker's  place.  He  was  not  at  all  pleased  that 
his  plans  had  not  been  heartily  acclaimed  by  Cronel  and 


120  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Klemner.  Their  reason  for  not  doing  so,  Klemner  voiced 
to  Cronel  after  Dan  had  gone. 

"He's  got  the  right  notion  about  getting  rid  of  the 
members  who  are  against  law  and  order,"  said  Klemner, 
"but  Dan  Bradshaw,  as  you  can  see,  is  not  quite  himself. 
He's  got  the  making  of  a  forceful  leader,  but  I'm  afraid 
that  right  now  he  can't  hold  the  membership  together. 
If  he  starts  something  at  the  meeting  it  will  be  a  hot 
session." 

Cronel  agreed  with  the  shoemaker. 

In  truth,  there  was  a  tenseness  in  evidence  that  pres- 
aged coming  excitement  before  Cronel  called  the  League 
meeting  to  order  that  night.  There  was  a  preponderance 
of  virulent  Direct  Actionists,  very  officious  in  their 
claims  as  to  what  they  proposed  to  do,  and  fewer  than 
ever  of  that  element  of  which  Bradshaw  had  been  the 
accredited  head.  Conservative  members  were  absent  for 
a  variety  of  reasons.  Those  of  them  who  were  married 
and  had  acquired  little  homes,  let  wifely  counsel  stimu- 
late their  own  inclination  to  stay  away  from  the  meet- 
ing. Others  feared  the  League  was  under  a  surveillance 
that  was  becoming  keener  all  the  time,  for  the  mining 
companies,  as  well  as  the  officers  of  the  law  were  not  un- 
aware of  the  necessity  of  trying  to  reach  the  very  foun- 
tain-head of  the  abortive  attempt  to  carry  Direct  Action 
to  either  a  very  serious  culmination  or  to  encourage  more 
such  actions  which  might  be  dangerous  for  employes  and 
destructive  to  property  anywhere.  Still  others  were 
weary  of  the  organization  which,  they  decided,  was  lead- 
ing nowhere  as  it  became  more  and  more  apparent  that 
not  even  Bradshaw  was  able  to  control  it. 

Vignon  sat  where  he  could  command  a  good  view  of 
the  members.  He  almost  crouched  forward — like  a  tiger 
awaiting  the  moment  to  spring  on  its  prey. 


121 


Bradshaw,  with  Paddy  Skiff  and  Jackson,  took  their 
seats  in  the  center  of  the  hall  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
Direct  Actionists  from  whom  Dan  wanted  to  wrest  the 
League. 

Routine  business  dispensed  with,  Bradshaw  pur- 
posely permitted  Vignon  to  begin  proceedings  with  ad- 
vocacy of  the  scheme  to  have  the  League  become  affili- 
ated with  the  national  Direct  Actionist  organization. 

As  when  on  a  day  in  summer  there  appears  within  a 
fleecy  cloud-mass  a  black  core  that  finally  envelops  it  and 
flash  after  flash  of  lightning  whips  out  before  the  tempest 
sweeps  down  until  there  seems  a  temporary  overthrow 
of  Nature's  stability — a  cosmic  chaos — so  did  this  meet- 
ing come  rapidly  to  where  darkest  basic  emotions  envel- 
oped it.  The  flashings  of  the  then-engendered  virulence 
made  a  clashing,  primitive,  unreckoning  chaos  of  order. 
The  pent-up  menaces  of  feelings,  of  long  fermenting 
ideas,  burst  all  restraining  bonds. 

Men  voiced  Direct  Action  that  meant  the  worst  of 
destructive  radicalism. 

Cronel  sought  in  vain  to  stem  the  swirling,  foaming, 
reckless  maelstrom  of  Direct  Actionist  outpourings.  He 
pounded  on  his  desk. 

"Vignon,  springing  up,  shook  his  fist  in  Cronel's  face. 
"Go  an'  rot  you  fool!"  he  shrieked.  "Go  to  hell!" 

Bradshaw,  with  blazing  eyes,  with  head  erect  and 
once  more  radiating  that  force  of  personality  that  pre- 
viously had  distinguished  him  in  trying  situations, 
sprang  on  a  chair  and  demanded  attention.  There  came 
a  brief  lull  in  the  maddened,  boiling  confusion  while  all 
eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  towards  him.  Quickly  he 
took  advantage  of  his  chance,  commanding  undivided  at- 
tention. He  called  on  the  members  to  retain  their 
reason.  He  flayed  Direct  Actionism's  attempt  to  win  the 


122  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

League's  affiliation.  And  then  it  was  to  him  as  if  the 
meeting  faded  from  his  view  and  he  was  striving  to 
climb  up  a  steep  hill  to  Mary  Norton,  standing  on  its 
summit.  The  way,  it  seemed,  was  over  fearful,  jagged 
rocks  and,  if  he  meant  to  reach  her  he  must  toil,  he  must 
overcome  the  menacing  obstacles  before  he  could  win  vic- 
tory. The  vision  faded  and  he  was  pouring  out  burning 
words  to  the  men  about  him.  He  was  fighting  his  fight 
as  if  the  girl  of  the  vision  were  there  smiling  encourage- 
ment at  him  and  bidding  him  fight  and  triumph. 

"No  Direct  Action" — he  told  them — "no  radicalism, 
no  socialism  that  demands  the  immediate  overturning  of 
social  and  all  other  conditions,  can  or  ever  will  aid  you, 
make  you  men  as  men  were  meant  to  be.  But  the  exer- 
cising of  your  best  manhood,  the  expression  of  your  best 
thoughts  that  really  make  for  proper  procedure,  the  acts 
of  men  who  are  right,  who  are  true,  are  your  safeguards, 
your  best  guides,  your  salvation  in  the  economic  strug- 
gles all  men  must  face.  Good  citizenship" — he  spoke  as 
though  he  might  have  been  reading  from  a  prepared 
paper,  so  smooth  and  sure  was  the  flow  of  his  words — 
"Good  citizenship  means  the  performance  of  duty  as  it 
should  be  performed.  It  means  being  American.  It  means 
the  upholding  of  law  and  order, — of  the  preservation  of 
all  those  principles  which  make  for  progress  and  decency 
and  equity.  If  you  destroy  industry  you  destroy  your- 
selves. If  you  practice  sabotage  you  take  a  big  step 
backwards  towards  savagery.  When  you  have  rights  you 
can  demand  them,  but  in  the  right  way  and  at  the  oppor- 
tune time.  Destruction  does  not  bring  rights.  Destruc- 
tion of  property,  of  industry  cannot  bring  better  eco- 
nomic conditions.  If  you  have  political  wrongs,  then 
most  certainly  the  destruction  of  government  could  be 
no  cure  for  them.  The  ways  and  means  of  properly 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  123 

eliminating  such  wrongs  are  provided.  The  proper 
righting  of  any  wrong  is  provided.  You  froth  about 
wanting  to  abolish  the  wage  system  and  you  offer  noth- 
ing but  utmost  confusion — chaotic  turmoil  in  its  place. 
I  ask  you  to  be  part  of  a  right-thinking  and  right-seek- 
ing citizenry.  Be  not  misled  by  damnable  Direct  Action- 
ism!  Be  men! — Not  rending,  destroying,  reasonless 
beasts!" 

They  listened  to  him  with  the  sort  of  breathlessness 
that  they  would  have  manifested  had  a  wave  of  cold 
water  struck  them  unexpectedly.  But  as  they  began  to 
recover  from  the  shock  of  his  verbal  attack,  so,  too,  did 
the  tide  turn  against  him. 

Cronel  sensed  it.  Jackson  felt  it.  Paddy  Skiff  sus- 
pected it.  Bradshaw  knew  it. 

But  he  talked  on  with  a  desperation  born  of  the  hope 
that  his  eloquence,  his  reasoning  and  the  fact  that  he 
was  right,  might  sway  them,  turn  them,  bring  them  to 
him  with  new  enthusiasm  because  of  the  light  that 
might  pierce  the  obscurity  of  their  mental  confusion. 
He  had  never  been  so  much  himself  as  he  was  right 
then.  He  never  had  spoken  so  to  them  from  his  heart, 
from  his  very  soul.  The  power  of  the  super-force  which 
actuated  him  was  then  communicated  to  them,  and  at  one 
psychological  instant  he  might  have  won,  and  won  glori- 
ously. For  crowd-psychology  is  a  remarkable  thing — 
its  anger  is  gossamer  and  chrome  steel — it  melts  at  a 
fiery  word,  or  resists  a  white-hot  furnace,  and  as  for  the 
heart  of  it — it  is  kind  and  enthusiastic  to  the  point  of 
effusiveness,  while  it  is  merciless  as  an  Inquisition. 

The  very  first  hesitancy  in  Bradshaw's  speaking — 
his  first  inadvertant  groping  for  a  powerful  phrase,  sen- 
tence, word — his  first  raising  of  his  eyes  from  the  crowd 


124  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

before  him — and  his  spell  was  as  a  cobweb  to  be  brushed 
fr'side  with  a  single  impatient  gesture. 

Vignon  pushed  his  way  towards  Bradshaw  and  a 
hundred  tongues  began  to  clamor. 

Dan  was  interrupted.  He  lost  his  power  to  reclaim 
attention  and  was  literally  swept  off  his  chair. 

There  was  a  fierce,  rough  surging  as  when  anger,  un- 
cv.rtainty  and  desire  for  a  different  sort  of  action  make 
a  crowd  churn  about  and  express  itself  in  an  inarticulate, 
positive,  menacing  rumble — the  Voice  of  the  Mob. 

A  dozen  hands  elevated  Vignon  to  the  top  of  Crenel's 
desk  and  supported  him  there  while  he,  bending  for- 
vrard,  poured  out  the  vials  of  his  hatred,  when  the 
League  ceased  its  movement  and  noise  to  listen  to  him. 

Vignon  spoke  with  the  rough  masterfulness  of  the 
coarse,  uncouth  but  forceful  evil  entity  he  was.  He  used 
v  fcrds  that  were  cunningly  naive.  His  sarcasm  was  the 
more  effective  because  it  seared.  His  sophistry  was  the 
more  appealing  to  those  there  who  wanted  his  talk  be- 
cause of  the  false  strength  of  its  appeal  to  their  real 
desires. 

He  abused  them,  scorned  them,  lashed  them  to  fury. 
He  called  them  "slaves"  and  "groun'  down  dogs"  and 
"nawthin'  but  lumps  a  mud  tuh  be  kicked  'round" — done 
with  the  well-calculated  idea  of  bringing  them  to  a  high 
pitch  of  anger,  not  against  himself,  of  course,  but 
against  those  who,  as  Vignon  insisted,  were  opposing 
their  theories  and  methods.  For  so  to  arouse  them  was 
a  vital  part  of  the  strategy  of  the  sophistry  with  which 
he  was  misleading  them  the  more.  And  he  climaxed  his 
tirade  with  an  appeal  for  their  support. 

The  frenzy  of  some  of  them  was  that  of  the  camp- 
meeting  self -hypnosis  so  that  a  man  so  possessed  jumped 
on  a  chair  and  shouted; 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  125 

"Le's  go  an'  burn  'em  all  up." 

Another  urged  that  they  parade  and  that  struck  most 
of  them  with  favor.  To  parade,  to  march  through  thor- 
oughfares— that  was  it —  the  same  spirit  that  impelled 
the  march  of  the  frenzied  populace  in  Paris  in  the 
Reign  of  Terror — the  desire  to  move,  to  express  a  vio- 
lent emotion  by  marching  such  as  from  time  immemo- 
rial has  been  one  of  the  mob's  chief  expressions — an 
impulse  to  sweep  on,  shouting  and  threatening  and 
seemingly  unaware  of  its  locomotion,  but  driven  on  by  a 
turmoil  of  an  inward  seething  purpose  to  proceed  on- 
ward,— onward  to  no  special  destination. 

Vignon  sprang  from  his  perch. 

The  members  again  were  moving  en  masse. 

Crunch,  who  had  made  his  way  to  Bradshaw's  side, 
was  jostled  about  in  front  of  Vignon.  One  of  the  lat- 
ter's  coterie  aimed  a  wide-swinging  blow  at  Crunch 
which  would  have  been  disastrous  for  him  had  it  landed, 
but  Bradshaw  quickly  stepped  in  and,  warding  off  the 
blow,  struck  out  straight  from  the  shoulder  and  sent 
the  assailant  reeling  unconscious  against  Vignon. 

Crunch  spoke  quickly  and  with  carrying  clearness  to 
Bradshaw. 

"Another  favor  for  which  I  owe  you  return",  he  said 
sincerely,  before  he  was  swept  aside  in  the  rush  at 
Bradshaw  that  followed. 

What  the  stalwart  miner  had  not  been  able  to  ex- 
press in  forceful  words,  he  exultantly  did  with  the  might 
of  his  good,  strong  arms.  He  went  into  the  combat  with 
a  fierce  joyousness,  shooting  out  his  fists  with  no  lack 
of  skill,  toppling  over  attackers  as  they  came.  But  in 
countering  a  blow  which  Vignon  struck  at  him  with  one 
of  his  huge,  gnarled  fists,  Dan  missed  Vignon's  jaw  by 
a  hair-breadth. 


126  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Paddy  Skiff,  Jackson  and  even  Cronel,  unmindful  of 
whatever  physical  harm  might  threaten  them,  put  forth 
heroic  efforts  to  get  to  Bradshaw's  side  for,  indeed,  Dan 
was  becoming  a  central  point  for  the  few  who  wanted  to 
stay  the  maddened  crowd  from  leaving  the  hall  for  a 
street  demonstration  that  would  be  sure  to  result  in  a  los- 
ing clash  with  the  authorities.  It  was  no  such  motive, 
however,  that  actuated  Bradshaw.  All  his  fighting  in- 
stinct, all  his  grievance  against  thick-headed  and  stupid 
opposition,  all  his  antagonism  against  insane  Direct  Ac- 
tionism  and  anarchy,  prompted  him — making  of  him  a 
dangerous  fighting  man,  one  who  wanted  only  to  hit  and 
punish  those  striving  to  down  him. 

Paddy  Skiff  and  Jackson,  too,  were  doing  yeoman 
service. 

Cronel  bumped  against  Vignon.  The  latter  cursed 
him  and  with  a  snarl  crashed  a  blow  against  the  social- 
ist's face  that  deprived  him  of  his  senses. 

With  Bradshaw  and  three  of  his  friends  battling 
desperately  to  protect  them,  Paddy  Skiff  and  Jackson 
dragged  the  form  of  Cronel  to  one  side  and  propped  him 
up  on  a  chair  just  as  Cronel  was  opening  his  eyes.  A 
blood  smear  was  across  his  left  cheek  and  he  was  very 
white — but  he  was  smiling. 

Soon  the  melee  became  even  more  general.  It  was, 
in  truth,  a  disorganized  mob  fight,  where  many  personal 
enmities  were  fought  out.  It  became  a  time  for  the  set- 
tling of  old  scores — and  the  starting  of  new  ones. 

And,  in  that  din  of  heaving,  fighting  men,  there  was 
struck  the  death  knell  of  the  League. 

From  just  outside  the  front  doors  suddenly  came  the 
shrilling  of  a  police  whistle. 

"Th'  cops!"  cried  a  voice. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  127 

Hostilities  ceased  almost  in  an  instant.  Men  began 
rushing  for  the  exits.  Some  plunged  through  windows. 
The  hall  began  to  clear  quickly. 

Such  is  the  inherent  desire  to  escape  arrest. 

At  the  front  and  rear  of  the  hall,  hastening  members 
encountered  policemen  entering  and  sharp  tilts  ensued 
because  of  Leaguers'  efforts  to  get  away. 

A  police  patrol  automobile  came  clanging  up,  and 
then  went  clanging  away. 

How  he  got  there,  Bradshaw  could  not  exactly  tell, 
but  he  found  himself  with  Paddy  Skiff  and  Jackson  in  the 
shadow  of  a  building  near  the  one  in  which  the  hall  was 
located.  The  sounds  of  battle  in  front  of  League  head- 
quarters were  rapidly  diminishing. 

Then  the  fighting  ended  and  but  a  few  policemen  re- 
mained in  the  neighborhood.  The  League  hall  looked  as 
if  a  very  severe  storm  had  swept  through  it. 

Bradshaw,  Paddy  and  Jackson  took  hasty  counsel  to- 
gether. 

"We  had  better  separate  and  then  meet  up  at 
Carty's",  was  Dan's  persistent  suggestion,  to  which  both 
of  the  others  finally  agreed,  although  Paddy  preferred 
going  to  the  boarding  house. 

Paddy  and  Jackson  walked  to  the  corner,  where  stood 
the  building  that  housed  what  was  left  of  League  head- 
quarters, and  there  Paddy  turned  up  towards  Working 
Lane  while  Jackson  went  on  for  another  block  before  he, 
too,  turned  northward. 

Bradshaw  went  in  the  opposite  direction.  Then 
through  various  side  streets  and  avenues  he  worked  his 
way  towards  Carty's. 

As  Bradshaw  entered  Working  Lane,  three  men  also 
bound  for  the  saloon,  saw  the  miner.  The  biggest  and 
burliest  of  the  trio  clutched  his  companions  and  drew 


128  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

them  back  into  shadow  for  a  moment  before  they  cau- 
tiously followed  Bradshaw. 

That  Dan  would  have  to  cross  a  set  of  railroad  tracks 
and  close  beside  a  looming  water  tank  before  he  could 
reach  Carty's  evidently  was  known  to  the  trio,  for,  with 
the  burly  man  in  the  lead,  the  three  darted  in  between 
two  houses  to  an  alley,  hastened  through  it  and  emerged 
in  the  very  shadow  of  the  water  tank. 

So  when  Bradshaw  came  there,  a  sharp  blow  on  the 
head  from  a  billet  stretched  him  unconscious  on  the 
ground. 

The  burliest  of  the  trio  gave  the  prostrate  form  a 
thudding  kick  on  the  side  and  involuntarily  one  of  his 
companions  exclaimed  "Oh  Vignon!"  as  if  in  protest. 

"Shut  yer  damn  face",  growled  the  man  addressed. 
*•  Here's  our  chance  to  railroad  this  guy  an'  do  it  right. 
Come  on  now." 

They  picked  up  the  unconscious  form  and  carried  it 
quickly  along  beside  the  railroad  track,  safe  from  ob- 
servance because  of  the  shadows  to  which  they  kept. 

A  hundred  feet  away  stood  a  string  of  empty  steel 
ore  gondolas.  At  their  farther  end  were  two  box  cars. 
The  three  halted  with  their  burden  at  the  first  box  car. 
Then,  while  the  other  two  half-supported  the  limp  body 
of  Bradshaw,  Vignon  pushed  open  the  car  door.  To 
h^st  Bradshaw  into  the  car,  drag  him  to  one  end  of  it, 
then  get  out  and  push  to  the  door  was  the  work  of  a  few 
minutes. 

After  that,  the  three  made  their  way  back  to  Work- 
ing Lane  and  walked  up  to  Carty's  saloon. 
***** 

A  switchman,  swinging  a  globe  of  light  from  the 
front  board  of  a  puffing  switch  engine,  signaled  the  en- 
gineer to  back  the  locomotive  down  the  tracks  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  129 

around  a  curve  that  led  to  the  water  tank  at  Working 
Lane.  Obeying  orders,  the  engineer  slowed  down  his 
engine's  speed  as  it  approached  two  box  cars  attached  to 
a  string  of  empty  steel  ore  gondolas.  Then,  when  near 
enough,  the  switchman  jumped  agilely  from  his  place 
and  ran  to  make  the  coupling. 

Buffer  of  switch  engine  met  buffer  of  box  car  and,  as 
a  clattering  shiver  ran  through  the  string  of  cars,  the 
switchman  deftly  dropped  the  coupling-pin  into  proper 
position  and  stepped  back.  He  swung  his  lantern,  and 
two  blurred  notes  came  in  answer  from  the  engine's 
whistle.  Then,  as  the  locomotive  strained  forward,  the 
switchman  jumped  nimbly  to  the  hand-holds  on  the  side 
of  the  car  and  climbed  to  its  roof. 

The  engine  went  puffing  up  the  grade  to  the  switch- 
ing yards,  the  two  box  cars  and  empty  ore  gondolas 
creaking  dismally  behind  it.  . 


CHAPTER  XIV 
WILLIAMS 

Vignon  did  not  go  to  work  next  morning.  He  loitered 
at  Carty's,  and  presently  Wilkins  and  Snitch  gravitated 
to  that  place.  They  found  Vignon  drinking  at  the  bar 
and  without  a  word  edged  up  beside  him.  Finally  he 
deigned  to  notice  them,  and  swallowing  at  a  gulp  the 
contents  of  the  whiskey  glass  before  him,  he  indicated 
with  a  motion  of  his  head  that  they  were  to  follow  him 
to  a  corner  table.  When  they  were  seated  there,  he 
leaned  over  and  spoke  in  a  low  but  emphatic  tone. 

"We  made  one  grand  little  mistake  last  night — one 
damn  fool  break.  Railroadin'  that  bird  Bradshaw  may 
not  help  our  game  none.  What  we  should  of  done  was 
let  him  stay  in  town  and  play  his  string.  He  was  gettin' 
through  fast  anyhow  and  then  with  me  showin'  that  he 
was  responsible  for  breakin'  up  the  League — say,  he'd 
bin  a  dead  one  here  sure  enough.  Now  s'posin'  he  picks 
up  and  blows  back  here.  Why  he's  liable  to  make  a  hero 
out  of  himself  tellin'  how  he  was  jumped  on  and  half- 
murdered  all  for  the  sake  of  the  League.  Bah!" 

"Sure",  assented  Wilkins.    "I  fought  of  that  too." 

"Yeah,  but  you  was  too  busy  to  say  anything", 
sneered  Vignon.  "Well,  there  ain't  no  use,  my  hearties, 
howlin'  over  spilt  beer. . .  .all  we  can  do  now  is  help  this 
idea  along  that  I  got  well  started  already  'bout  his  bein' 
the  real  cause  for  the  League  bustin'  an'  how  with  him 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  131 

out  of  the  way  it  could  go  along  better  than  ever."  He 
rose  and  pounded  on  the  table.  "Why,  damn  him  any- 
how! It  was  him  that  broke  up  the  League  just  when  I 
got  it  goin'  my  way — just  when  I  could  of  done  some 
good  with  it — him  and  his  fool  notions  and  his  mush 
talk  against  direc'  action.  The  damn  fool!" 

Several  others,  who  also  regarded  Vignon  as  the 
right  sort  of  leader,  drew  near  to  listen,  their  presence 
spurring  Vignon  on  to  utter  rabid  radicalisms. 

His  little  audience  nodded  approvingly  when  he 
scored  what  he  and  his  listeners  considered  good  points. 
And  his  barkening  admirers  never  for  a  moment  paused 
to  ponder  on  how  unsound  were  his  direct  action  advo- 
cacies with  all  too  much  of  this  radical's  own  motives  in 
them;  how  ridiculous  his  plan  with  its  illogical  start, 
course  and  destination.  Like  many  another  extreme  rad- 
ical, Vignon  demanded  changes  of  a  most  radical  sort 
and  argued  against  established  institutions,  but  had  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  offer  in  their  places.  Those  who  hung 
so  eagerly  on  his  words,  very  evidently  did  not  see  that 
he  really  was  an  advocate  of  disorganization  and  a  cre- 
ator of  serious  new  problems — that  he  was  an  impedi- 
ment in  the  way  of  progress  instead  of  anything  like  an 
aid  to  it. 

Vignon  wound  up  his  tirade  with  some  more  abuse 
of  Bradshaw,  and  Snitch  remarked,  "I  wonder  where 
that  guy  Bradshaw's  got  to  now."  Whereupon  Vignon's 
glowering  look  plainly  warned  him  to  refrain  from  any 
more  comment  of  the  kind. 

But  at  that  moment,  Dan  Bradshaw  could  not  have 
satisfied  Snitch's  curiosity  had  the  latter  been  with  him. 

After  having  been  thrown  into  the  car,  Dan  re- 
mained unconscious  for  several  hours.  Then  he  rallied 
a  bit  and  realized  a  forward  and  backward  jolting— the 


132 BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

cars  were  being  switched  around  in  the  yards.  Follow- 
ing that  momentary  glimmer  of  consciousness,  he  sank 
into  a  deep  stupor  that  lasted  a  long  time.  When  finally 
he  regained  his  senses,  he  was  puzzled  and  totally  un- 
aware of  his  location.  He  was  stiff  and  sore  and  the  top 
of  his  head  throbbed  painfully.  He  carefully  felt  the  top 
of  his  head  and  knew  that  it  had  been  badly  bruised,  but 
there  had  been  no  bleeding.  In  the  ensuing  hour  he 
pieced  together  the  events  that  had  preceded  the  assault 
on  him  in  the  shadow  of  the  water  tank  and  what  likely 
enough  had  happened  after  that.  And  a  great  rage 
welled  up  in  him.  He  clinched  his  hands  and  was  for 
going  at  once  to  search  for  Vignon  to  strangle  him, 
but  there  came  a  quick  revulsion  of  his  flaming  anger, 
for  he  felt  very  ill  physically,  and  he  grew  desperately 
sick  in  spirit.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  after  a  time  drifted 
off  into  a  semi-doze  which  was  disturbed  by  the  shunt- 
ing of  the  car.  Next,  the  fact  dawned  on  him  that  the 
continuous  roaring  that  had  been  in  his  ears  had  ceased 
and  that  the  jolting  motion  had  ended.  The  cars  had 
been  sidetracked  and  had  stopped. 

The  door  of  Dan's  car  was  pushed  back  and  a  big 
brakeman  entered,  peering  about.  He  discovered  Brad- 
shaw  propped  up  in  a  corner. 

"Well,  well",  exclaimed  the  brakeman,  his  hands  on 
his  hips  and  bending  forward  to  inspect  Bradshaw, 
"from  the  looks  of  the  other  cars  I  thought  I  wasn'  to 
find  any  passenger  at  all  on  this  trip — an'  here  you  are. 
Hey  bum  whatcha  doin'  in  here?" 

Bradshaw  resented  the  greeting,  but  felt  too  weak  to 
argue  the  matter,  so  he  merely  answered  wearily,  "just 
resting." 

"You  can't  rest  in  here",  and  then  the  brakeman 
spoke  in  slightly  lower  tone,  "unless — ",  and  he  paused. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  133 

Bradshaw  pretended  not  to  understand  the  more  than 
implied  request  for  tribute. 

"Where  are  we,  brakie?" 

"Too  far  from  the  pandhandlin'  districts  of  Butte  to 
suit  you,  I  guess",  was  the  ungracious  response.  "We're 
half  way  up  the  Red  Flower  valley  and  this  string  of 
empties  is  sidetracked  here  for  a  few  minutes.  If  you 
want  to  go  on  to  the  end  of  the  line  you'll  have  to  come 
across." 

Bradshaw  studied  his  situation.  He  must  have  been 
unconscious  and  in  a  semi-stupor  for  at  least  twelve 
hours  since  leaving  Butte  and  now  he  was  on  a  branch 
line  running  up  one  of  the  state's  most  famous  valleys  a 
considerable  distance  from  Butte.  He  had  no  money 
with  him.  He  resolved  to  get  out  on  the  chance  of  there 
being  a  habitation  nearby  where  he  could  procure  some- 
thing to  eat,  rather  than  try  to  prevail  on  the  brakie  for 
a  free  ride  farther  along. 

"Well,  come  on — you  goin'  to  sleep?"  demanded  the 
brakeman  impatiently. 

"I  guess  this  is  where  we  part  company",  remarked 
Bradshaw  arising  stiffly.  He  made  his  rather  unsteady 
way  to  the  door  and  looked  out — and  the  brakeman  drew 
back  a  big  foot  and  kicked  Dan  Bradshaw  out  into  a  dry 
ditch  beside  the  railroad's  right  of  way. 

Thereupon  this  humiliated  man,  forgetful  entirely  of 
his  one-time  high  hopes,  thinking  not  at  all  of  his  man- 
hood, turned  where  he  had  fallen  and  cursed  the  brake- 
man with  deep,  bitter  oaths — cursed  him  with  all  the  in- 
tensity of  bitterness  of  an  unnerved,  unmannerly  being 
who  knew  himself  to  be  sinking  into  the  very  slime  and 
ooze  of  degradation.  Even  in  the  days  when  Bradshaw 
had  temporarily  lost  his  grip  on  himself  in  his  fight  in 
Butte,  he  still  had  been  able  to  inspire  some  respect  for 


134  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

his  person.  Antagonized  as  his  motives  might  have  been, 
no  one  had  then  ventured  to  give  him  anything  less  than 
honorable  battle,  respecting  his  prowess  and  his  innate 
manliness. 

The  brakeman  did  not  even  accord  him  that  honor. 
He  merely  laughed  tauntingly  and  climbed  to  the  roof  of 
the  car. 

Presently  the  sharp  edge  of  Bradshaw's  anger  was 
worn  dull.  Almost  apathetically  he  picked  himself  up 
and  moved  over  to  the  nearby  water-tank  where  he  swal- 
lowed great  draughts  of  brackish  water,  and  then, 
sitting  down  slowly,  he  leaned  against  one  of  the 
tank's  supports  to  rest  and  perhaps  summon  up  enough 
determination  to  see  a  rift  in  the  clouds  settling  down 
over  his  soul. 

Soon  the  string  of  box  cars  moved  on  their  way  and 
he  was  the  only  human  being  in  that  vicinity. 

It  was  late  in  the  Fall,  just  after  the  pleasantness  of 
the  Autumn  and  before  the  coming  of  winter.  It  was 
that  dull,  drab,  fortunately  brief  period  that  is  like  the 
mournfulness  of  the  half  hour  at  the  end  of  a  winter 
day  and  just  before  the  coming  of  early  evening,  when 
it  seems  as  though  Nature,  herself,  were  pausing  to 
yawn.  Even  that  locality,  in  summer  so  beautiful  and  in 
winter  at  least  picturesque,  was  forlorn  looking  to  this 
degraded  man — was  unfriendly  to  the  point  of  seeming 
antagonism. 

He  got  up  and,  slowly  climbing  the  railroad  fence, 
crossed  a  field  and  walked  towards  a  farm-house  on  the 
other  side  of  a  well-defined  roadway.  It  appeared  a 
properly  kept  place  with  its  large,  well-painted  dwelling, 
big  barns  and  other  evidences  of  farming  prosperity 
near  it.  When  he  reached  a  small  grove  near  the  house, 
Bradshaw  stopped  and  looked  down  at  his  clothes.  His 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  135 

suit  was  dusty  and  torn.  He  felt  his  chin  and  knew  that 
his  stubble  of  whiskers  did  not  add  favorably  to  his  ap- 
pearance. And  with  a  rush  the  realization  came  to  him 
that  he  looked  like  a  hobo  and  that  in  attitude  of  mind  he 
was  practically  just  that.  The  thought  almost  took  his 
breath  away — it  was  the  one  thing  then  that  might  have 
permitted  his  submerging  self-respect  to  assert  itself,  but 
the  feeling  passed  as  quickly  as  it  had  come.  He  leaned 
against  a  tree  and  contemplated  the  house.  One  idea 
projected  itself  with  peculiar  vividness  and  persistency 
on  his  mental  screen.  It  was  as  though  he  thought  it  so 
intensely  that  actually  he  was  seeing  the  thought  instead 
of  merely  thinking  it.  And  that  strangely  visualized 
thought  was  that  he  had  just  about  reached  the  bottom 
— that  he  was  right  down  on  the  muddy,  oozy,  engulfing 
loam  of  life's  sea.  That  thought  brought  others  of  like 
character.  He  had  not  made  good.  To  get  to  the  status 
where  he  was  hit  on  the  head,  thrown  into  a  box  car  and 
railroaded  out  of  town  and  then  kicked  out  into  a 
ditch — verily,  was  a  fine  finish  for  a  man  with  ambitions, 
with  dreams !  And  now  another  thought — why,  he  really 
had  been  sinking  into  the  depths  all  the  time  he  had 
thought  he  was  rising  to  the  surface ! 

But  it  was  the  present  that  most  concerned  him.  Two 
courses,  he  felt,  were  open  to  him.  He  could  go  up  to 
the  farm-house  and  beg  a  meal  like  any  true  bum,  or  he 
could  ask  for  work  even  if  the  only  reward  for  it  might 
be  a  small  hand-out  of  food. 

And  as  he  was  weighing  these  two  ways,  a  third,  a 
sinister,  really  shameful  plan  presented  itself  to  him. 
How  easy  it  would  be,  if  he  got  the  lay  of  the  place,  to 
get  into  the  house  at  night  and  help  himself  to  what  he 
wanted !  At  that  moment  he  was  almost  engulfed  in  the 
slime  of  the  very  bottom.  The  fact  that  he  could  give 


136  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

even  a  few  minutes  to  figuring  out  how  he  might  get  into 
the  house  in  such  a  way  and  for  such  purpose,  was  em- 
phatic indication  of  where  he  was  morally  and  mentally 
just  then.  He  had  to  make  a  quick  decision,  and  nothing 
was  farther  from  his  mind  than  to  make  excuses  for  him- 
self. He  craved  food  and  rest.  And  he  was  glad  of  only 
one  thing — that  he  was  far  away  from  Butte.  He  felt 
like  something  hunted,  as  if  he  wanted  to  hide  for  all 
time  from  those  he  had  known  and  places  that  had 
known  him.  Doubtless  he  would  not  have  been  much  if 
at  all  noticed  in  Butte,  but  he  had  the  exaggerated  no- 
tion that  all  Butte  was  after  him.  He  had  been  going 
the  pace  too  fast,  and  even  long-enduring  Nature  was 
rebelling.  Then  it  puzzled  him  that,  in  such  a  moment, 
recollection  of  his  aunt  and  uncle,  all  unsuspecting  of  his 
downfall,  of  Walton  and  others — of  Mary  Norton — 
should  come  to  him,  but  he  could  not  think  logically  of 
them  either.  They  all  seemed  to  blend  into  one  mental 
picture — and  somehow,  someway,  he  felt  more  com- 
forted, more  sustained.  Then  and  there  he  made  his  first 
struggle  to  rise  from  the  slime,  and  none  too  soon. 

He  walked  over  to  the  farm-house  to  beg  for  some- 
thing to  eat.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  a  woman, 
middle-aged  but  with  surprisingly  trustful  eyes  of  al- 
most girlish  clearness,  opened  it.  But  he  did  not  beg  for 
food.  He  asked  if  he  could  split  some  wood  for  a  meal. 
She  regarded  him  for  the  space  of  two  brief  moments 
and  told  him  to  gather  up  a  little  kindling  and  bring  it 
in,  when  she  would  give  him  something  to  eat.  So,  a 
few  minutes  later,  he  was  occupying  a  hard  kitchen  chair 
that  seemed  marvelously  comfortable  to  him.  As  he 
ate  the  generous  meal  she  placed  on  the  wide  deal  table, 
to  which  he  had  drawn  his  chair  at  her  invitation,  a 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  137 

heavy-set,  bearded  man  entered  and  nodded  to  him  in 
not  unfriendly  greeting. 

Fortified  by  the  food,  and  a  mite  more  hopeful,  Brad- 
shaw  turned  suddenly  and  spoke  to  the  other  man. 

"Do  you  suppose  a  man  might  get  work  around 
here?" 

The  other  looked  up  from  the  straps  he  was  arrang- 
ing on  a  horse  collar. 

"Looking  for  work?"  he  countered. 

"Yes." 

"Ever  do  farm  work?" 

"No." 

"Well,  there  ain't  much  farm  work  this  time  of  the 
year,  but  I  might  use  a  man  for  chores.  It  ain't  much  of 
a  job,  but  it'll  tide  a  man  over.  Tully's  my  name." 

"Mine  is  'Williams',"  Bradshaw  lied  deliberately. 
"I'll  take  the  job." 

So  it  was  that  Dan  Bradshaw  came  to  Tully's  there 
to  serve  as  man  of  all  work.  It  meant  food  and  a  snug 
place  in  a  room  next  to  the  hayloft  to  sleep  in.  It  meant 
plenty  of  work  from  early  hours  until  nightfall. 

After  the  first  few  weeks,  Bradshaw  was  back  in 
proper  physical  condition  again.  He  began  to  think 
more  of  what  had  happened  and  yet  he  felt  a  mental  las- 
situde, an  apathy,  as  to  what  his  career  in  Butte  had 
been  and  what  had  come  of  it.  He  was  as  close  as  a  man 
like  Bradshaw  ever  possibly  could  get  to  being  more  a 
thing  and  less  a  man. 

Finally  the  spell  of  winter  broke.  Came  days  of  sun- 
shine, a  gradual  disappearing  of  the  snow,  a  reawakening 
of  the  earth.  One  bright  morning  a  vivid  blue-bird 
alighted  on  a  fence  near  him  and  Bradshaw,  pausing  in 
his  work,  looked  up  to  see  the  newly  ploughed  earth,  the 


138  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

thin  haze  veiling  the  mountains,  the  tint  of  the  sky. 
Spring  had  come. 

Thereafter  a  new  feeling  was  born  in  Bradshaw,  a 
stirring  of  new  life  such  as  the  clod,  that  has  remained 
dormant  all  winter,  must  feel  as  the  springtime  warms  it 
to  the  heart.  Not  long  thereafter  he  told  Tully  he  had 
decided  to  leave. 

"Dissatisfied  with  your  treatment?"  asked  the 
farmer. 

"No." 

"Just  want  a  change",  and  he  laughed.  "Most  of  you 
boys  do  when  the  spring  comes." 

"Oh,  it's  not  that",  Bradshaw  said  with  more  spirit 
than  he  had  suspected  he  retained.  "I  hear  that  men  are 
wanted  over  on  the  irrigation  project  across  the  valley 
and  the  pay  is  good.  I  thought  I'd  like  to  tackle  it." 

"That  speaks  well  for  you,  Williams — it's  the  right 
spirit",  declared  Tully. 

That  day  Bradshaw  drew  what  money  was  due  him, 
and  en  route  to  the  irrigation  project,  stopped  in  the  val- 
ley's largest  town  and  opened  a  bank  account.  He 
bought  a  few  articles  of  clothing  and  continued  on  to 
where  the  main  ditch  of  the  irrigation  project  was  being 
dug.  There  he  applied  for  a  job.  He  felt  far  better 
than  he  had  for  many  weeks  past.  Ambition  was  rising 
in  him  like  the  irrespressible  sap  in  a  sturdy  tree. 

He  grew  less  taciturn  as  he  labored  in  the  ditch  and 
began  taking  more  interest  in  his  fellow  ditch-diggers. 
He  even  manifested  interest  when  he  heard  of  prospec- 
tors bringing  in  good  ore  samples  from  the  mountains  to 
the  east  and  southeast,  and  his  talk  about  mining  was 
intelligent.  Those  in  the  ditch  crew,  who  obtained  ore 
specimens,  brought  them  to  him  for  his  inspection.  They 
soon  came  to  value  his  opinion. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  139 

He  scrupulously  saved  his  money  and  otherwise  mani- 
fested steadiness  as  well  as  working  ability  that  drew  the 
attention  of  the  ditch  foreman.  Bradshaw  was  ad- 
vanced to  the  position  of  gang  boss. 

And  then,  alluring,  demanding,  irresistible,  came  to 
him  the  call  of  the  mountains  and  his  soul  expanded  in 
the  new  light  that  flooded  him. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  MOUNTAINS  SUMMON 

•Summertime  with  its  accompanying  mellow  warmth 
was  upon  the  valley.  The  delightful  region  was  in  its 
full  seasonal  bloom.  There  was  the  ineffable  thrill  of 
indulgent  Nature  at  her  summery  best.  There  was 
silent  hum  of  action — the  noiseless,  active  energy  of 
growing  things. 

The  widespreading  fields  of  grain  were  adorned  with 
over-lapping  shades  of  deep  greens  and  warm,  soft 
browns  that  flowed  into  each  other  with  rippling,  slow 
motion  when  touched  by  each  gentle  zephyr.  And  those 
utilitarian  fields  of  beauty  swept  in  easy  undulations 
up  to  the  bench-lands  that,  too,  were  covered  with  their 
summer  verdure  and  were  as  swelling  bases  for  the 
grandly  towering  ranges  that  hedged  the  noble  valley. 

The  river,  winding  on  a  broad  and  gentle  course,  was 
limpid  blue  flecked  with  silver. 

Along  and  atop  the  bench-lands  at  the  east  ran  the 
long,  twisting  new-earth  scar  of  a  great  irrigation  pro- 
ject, dotted  at  intervals  with  the  little  camps  of  the 
ditch  workers  and  the  tent  stables  of  heavy,  amazingly 
strong  work  horses. 

From  each  of  these  little  camps,  pathways  joined  the 
wide,  well-kept  highway  that  traversed  the  valley  length- 
wise and  into  which  ran  the  various  lanes  and  smaller 
roads  that  afforded  means  of  communication  between 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  141 

farm  homes  and  hamlets  and  the  more  important  town 
to  the  south,  which  the  encircling  mountains  seemed 
finally  to  enfold. 

Down  the  pathway  that  led  in  turning  and  gradual 
descent  from  one  of  the  ditch  camps  to  the  main  high- 
way, came  a  man  with  free,  swinging  stride,  as  one  long 
accustomed  to  hillside  paths.  His  gray  corduroy 
trousers,  supported  by  a  leather-strap  belt,  and  his  blue 
flannel  shirt,  open  at  the  throat  with  the  collar  edges 
turned  in,  disclosing  his  strong,  bronzed  neck,  was  not 
without  its  picturesqueness.  His  shoes  thick-soled  and 
serviceable,  were  of  the  kind  the  ditch  diggers  wore. 
His  broad,  stiff -brimmed  hat  of  cowboy  style,  was  drawn 
down  in  front  to  shade  his  eyes  so  that  the  upper  part 
of  his  face  was  in  shadow,  but  his  close-cropped  beard 
did  not  conceal  the  strong  set  of  his  jaw.  Over  one  arm 
he  carried  his  corduroy  coat,  and  under  the  other  a  small 
bundle. 

Pausing  on  the  last  foot-hill  before  he  came  to  the 
floor  of  the  valley,  he  turned  and  looked  back,  his  glance 
sweeping  up  beyond  the  irrigation  ditch  to  the  moun- 
tains shimmering  under  a  blue-black  haze,  and  then  his 
look  became  more  intent  as  though,  while  studying  the 
ranges,  he  also  was  busy  with  thoughts  other  than  of  the 
view,  yet  having  much  to  do  with  what  he  saw. 

Turning  again  and  continuing  down  the  pathway,  he 
came  to  the  main  road  and  along  its  grassy  edge  began 
his  walk  towards  the  nearest  of  the  valley's  hamlets. 

Presently  into  this  rather  well-traveled  artery,  there 
ambled  a  pair  of  plump,  indifferent  horses  drawing  a 
light  spring-wagon  and  driven  by  the  middle-aged  owner 
of  one  of  the  valley's  thriving  farms.  When  the  farmer 
arrived  opposite  the  trudgfng  man,  he  reined  in  his 
team. 


142  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Coin'  to  Cross-roads?"  asked  the  farmer.  "Give 
you  a  lift  ef  you  are." 

The  other  man  stepped  over  to  the  wagon. 

"Thanks",  he  said,  and  climbed  to  a  place  beside  the 
driver. 

"Wall,  it'll  save  you  a  leetle  walk  enyhow",  remarked 
the  farmer  and,  jerking  slightly  on  the  reins,  he  made  a 
chirping  lip-sound  to  which  the  horses  responded  with  a 
resumption  of  their  ambling  gait. 

"Saves  me  a  walk  of  three  miles",  agreed  the  passen- 
ger with  a  smile. 

"Bin  workin'  on  the  big  ditch?"  queried  the  farmer. 

"Yes." 

"Thought  so." 

Several  times  during  the  interval  of  silence  that  fol- 
lowed, the  farmer  glanced  at  the  man  beside  him. 
Finally  he  again  asked  a  question. 

"Didn'  I  see  you  over  to  Tully's  durin'  the  winter  en 
early  spring?" 

"You  might  have  seen  me  there",  the  other  responded 
affably.  "I  worked  for  Mr.  Tully  all  last  winter  and  part 
of  the  spring." 

"He's  got  a  fine  ranch",  commented  the  farmer. 
"He's  a  good  man  to  work  for  too.  Pays  'bout  the  bigges' 
farm  wages  'roun'  here.  Did  you  like  workin'  on  the 
big  ditch  better  'n  farm  work?" 

"Can't  say  that  either  was  easy,  but  it  was  the  ques- 
tion of  pay  that  took  me  to  the  ditch." 

"I  guess  the  ditch  comp'ny  has  had  a  hard  time  to  git 
all  the  men  it  wants",  continued  the  farmer.  "I  guess 
that's  why  it  pays  such  good  wages." 

"I  guess",  agreed  the  other. 

"I  guess  now  thet  some  of  the  men  have  bin  workin' 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  143 

for  a  few  months  en  have  got  money  ahead,  they'll  be 
hikin'  for  town." 

"I  guess." 

"I  guess  you're  glad  to  be  goin'  somewhere  'sides  to 
a  ditch  camp  ev'ry  night." 

"I  guess." 

"Ever  bin  in  Butte?" 

The  passenger  glanced  sharply  from  beneath  his  hat 
brim  at  the  farmer. 

"Yes",  he  answered,  and  he  saw  the  farmer  was 
guileless. 

"My  son  was  there  a  month  ago",  the  farmer  went 
on.  "He  sez  it's  great — street  cars  en  ev'rything.  I 
guess  they's  most  a  hundred  thousan'  people  or  more 
there." 

"Good  guess." 

"He  sez  the  mines  look  great.  I  calkalate  on  seein' 
Butte  en  the  mines  some  day.  Ever  seen  'em?" 

"Yes." 

The  farmer  regarded  the  other  with  more  interest. 

"Mebbe  you  kin  tell  me  'bout  them  copper  mines",  he 
suggested.  "They  dig  a  hole  en  git  the  copper  out — 
don't  they?" 

"That's  right." 

"When  they  git  all  the  copper  out  of  that  hole  do 
they  go  over  en  dig  'nother  hole  en  git  the  copper  out 
of  that?" 

"In  a  way — yes." 

"Wall,  what  I  want  to  know  is" — the  farmer  faced 
the  other  man  directly — "does  the  first  hole  fill  up  agin 
some  way  with  copper?" 

Because  of  his  down-pulled  hat  brim,  much  of  the 
passenger's  facial  expression  was  hidden.  He  merely 
said,  "Not  exactly." 


144 


The  farmer  devoted  attention  to  his  ambling  horses, 
threatening  them  with  dire  but  unmeant  catastrophe  if 
they  did  not  keep  to  the  road. 

"Ef  what  I  heard  down  at  Jethro's  store  at  Cross- 
roads is  right",  he  said  to  his  passenger,  "we'll  have  a 
reg'lar  Butte  right  up  in  them  hills  some  day."  With 
his  whip  he  pointed  towards  the  ranges  up  beyond  the 
irrigation  ditch. 

The  other  directed  a  momentary  but  keen  glance  at 
him  before  he  spoke. 

"Have  they  found  any  more  ore  up  in  those  moun- 
tains lately?"  he  asked. 

"Say,  how  long  since  you  bin  down  to  Cross-roads?" 

"About  two  weeks." 

"Didn*  you  hear  eny  minin'  talk  'roun*  Jethro's  ? 
Didn'  you  see  eny  of  the  ore  specimens  that  was  brung 
in  by  some  of  the  prospectors  whp  come  over  the  ranges 
from  the  Big  Hole  Country?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  them",  replied  the  other.  "I  just  was 
wondering  if  you  had  heard  of  any  more  such  speci- 
mens being  brought  in — and  from  where." 

"Nope — ain't  heard  nothin'  new  of  the  kind",  replied 
the  farmer.  "I  guess  there's  goin'  to  be  lots  of  activity 
over  'n  them  hills  some  day.  They  ain't  so  turrible  far 
from  other  good  minin'  places  that's  already  bin  f oun'  en 
that  my  son's  told  me  'bout.  Yes  sir — I  guess  some  great 
mines  might  be  foun'  over  'n  them  ranges  somewhere." 

"I  guess." 

They  came  at  last  to  Cross-roads  where,  at  Jethro's, 
the  erstwhile  passenger  was  host  to  the  farmer  to  the 
extent  of  several  glasses  of  cider,  after  which  he  strolled 
over  to  the  box  of  ore  specimens  on  a  keg  near  the  door 
and  casually  picked  up  one  or  two  of  them. 

The  sound  of  a  locomotive  whistle  caused  him  to  re- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  145 

place  the  ore  in  the  box  and  step  outside.  The  railroad 
platform  was  only  a  few  rods  from  the  store  and  he  was 
there  on  the  arrival  of  the  branch  train  that  was  to  take 
him  to  the  town  of  rapidly  approaching  city  proportions 
and  mannerisms  far  to  the  south,  where  the  ranges 
seemed  to  enfold. 

Arrived  at  his  destination,  Bradshaw  went  first  to  a 
barber  shop,  and  when  he  left  it  his  appearance  was 
greatly  improved.  His  hair  was  much  shorter  and  his 
beard  trimmed  in  Vandyke  style.  He  was  indeed  a  stal- 
wart figure  with  a  light,  easy  carriage  despite  his  broad 
shoulders,  for  he  disclosed  a  lithesomeness  which  the 
coarseness  of  his  attire  could  not  conceal. 

He  went  to  a  small  bank  on  a  corner  and,  at  the  tell- 
er's window,  presided  over  by  the  cashier,  he  asked  as  to 
his  account. 

The  cashier-teller  quickly  secured  the  information. 
"Two  hundred  dollars  to  your  credit,  Mr.  Williams." 

The  other  took  a  slip  of  paper  from  his  pocket. 

"I  have  an  Irrigation  company  order — can  I  deposit 
it?"  he  asked. 

"Oh  yes — we'll  save  you  the  trouble  of  cashing  it  at 
the  company's  office." 

"It's  only  for  a  hundred  dollars",  said  the  other  man, 
and  he  made  out  a  deposit  slip.  "I'm  going  away  for  a 
while  and  may  check  out  some  from  time  to  time." 

"Send  'em  along",  returned  the  cashier-teller  cor- 
dially. 

From  the  bank,  Dan  proceeded  to  a  side  street  where 
stood  a  livery-stable.  Entering  the  "office",  he  spoke  to 
the  proprietor. 

"If  you  remember,  I  was  here  a  couple  of  weeks  ago", 
he  said,  "looking  at  a  burro  you  had." 

"Yes,  I  remember",  said  the  livery  man.    "We  still 


146  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

have  the  critter.  It's  a  good  little  animal,  an'  faithful, 
too.  Jus*  the  kind  a  man  would  want  to  take  out  in  the 
hills.  Want  to  look  at  it?" 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  Dan  gave  the  livery-stable 
proprietor  a  check  and  then  left  his  new  four-footed  ac- 
quisition to  await  his  promised  return  early  the  next 
morning. 

Four  minutes  after  he  had  gone,  the  livery  man  pre- 
sented the  check  at  the  bank  and  found  it  cashable. 

Meantime,  Dan  betook  himself  to  a  general  merchan- 
dise store,  where  he  made  purchases  of  groceries  and 
clothes.  He  also  bought  several  articles  of  hardware  in- 
cluding a  "Dutch  oven",  a  new  rifle,  an  automatic  re- 
volver, a  hammerless  five-shooter,  a  fishing  line,  some 
plain  and  fly-hooks,  and  then  a  pack-saddle  outfit.  All 
his  purchases  he  had  conveyed  to  the  livery-stable  which 
housed  his  burro. 

Next  he  went  to  a  stationer's  store  where  he  bought 
several  blank  mine  location  notices,  a  fountain  pen,  a 
tablet,  envelopes  and  some  stamps.  From  there  his  way 
led  to  a  restaurant,  and  subsequently  to  an  accustomed 
hostelry  where  he  secured  lodging. 

He  drew  the  room's  small  table  over  to  a  window  to 
get  the  benefit  of  the  fast-fading  light  and  wrote  two 
letters  and  filled  out  a  check  which  he  placed  in  one  of 
the  missives  bearing  the  address  of  his  aunt  and  uncle 
in  California. 

Returning  from  the  postoffice,  he  asked  the  landlord 
to  rouse  him  at  five  o'clock  next  morning — and  went  to 
bed. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  SLIP  ON  THE  DIKE 

Misty  vapor  was  still  hovering  over  the  river,  light 
haze  was  on  mountain  sides  and  over  the  far  reaches  of 
the  valley  when,  as  the  early  sunbeams  were  flooding 
over  the  tree-etched  summits  of  the  eastern  ranges,  Dan 
stopped  the  impatient,  laden  little  burro,  beside  which  he 
had  been  tramping  up  the  first  grades  of  the  slopes  that 
finally  grew  to  the  towering  mountains  at  the  south-east, 
and  looked  back  over  the  valley  from  which  he  had  come. 
His  costume  was  the  same  as  on  the  preceding  day,  but 
he  had  replaced  his  ditch-digging  shoes  with  almost  knee- 
high  mining  boots,  laced  from  instep  to  top. 

Already  the  town  from  which  he  had  made  his  start 
was  in  the  distance,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  higher 
mountains  was  beginning  to  manifest  itself  to  him. 

For  only  a  few  minutes  he  stood  there,  a  hand  rest- 
ing on  the  pack  of  the  burro,  looking  back  at  the  valley. 
Then  he  slapped  the  little  animal  jovially  on  the  flank. 

"Don  Quixote,  my  friend,  forward  to  the  charge!" 
he  exclaimed.  "  'Onward  and  upward'  is  our  motto.  If 
I  said  it  in  Latin  to  you,  it  would  be  but  Greek  to  thine 
expressive  ears!" 

The  burro  looked  around  at  him  and  raised  his  ears 
as  if  in  inquiry. 

"  'Onward  and  upward',  boy",  commanded  the  man, 
"and  then  in  due  time  a  luxurious  meal  of  grass  for  you 


148  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

and  a  short-order  dinner  for  me.  Heigh-ho,  boy,  get 
along!" 

So  onward  and  windingly  upward  they  made  their 
way  until  the  cool  recesses  of  the  mountain  side  encom- 
passed them. 

Long  shadows,  following  close  on  the  heels  of  day- 
light, were  slipping  over  the  mountains  when  man  and 
burro  attained  the  summit  of  the  first  range.  And  there 
camp  was  made.  The  man  busied  himself  near  his 
sprightly  little  camp  fire  with  the  preparations  for  his 
evening  meal,  while  nearby  the  burro,  lightened  of  its 
load,  contentedly  munched  bunch-grass.  And  after  the 
man  had  partaken  of  his  supper,  he  cleaned  his  cooking 
utensils  at  a  little  spring,  carefully  extinguished  his  fire, 
and  filled  his  pipe. 

The  man  looked  at  the  mountain  tops  and  the  sunset 
as  one  lost  in  his  own  dreaming. 

Far  down  and  away,  the  valley  he  had  left  was  blur- 
ring in  a  soft,  eventide  dusk.  The  river  was  all  dull 
silver  now.  Across,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley, 
the  range  tops  were  outlined  by  the  light  of  the  setting 
sun,  the  mountain  slopes  below  them  already  beginning 
to  take  on  the  deep  purple  hues  of  evening.  The  sunset 
was  one  of  western  glory.  As  the  sun  sank  lower,  the 
clouds  over  the  far-side  ranges  became  tinged  with  rosy 
fire,  deepening  in  tone  as  it  spread  from  the  cloud  edges, 
until  the  entire  cloud  mass  was  a  glowing,  seemingly 
smoldering  heap  of  crimson,  gradually  cooling  into 
mauve,  with  then  the  long,  lower  clouds  like  yellow-gold 
fillets  binding  the  brow  of  the  Evening  goddess. 

Suddenly  Bradshaw  turned  to  regard  the  serrated 
ranges  beyond  the  one  on  which  he  was  standing.  They 
were  being  covered  by  the  velvet  pall  of  night.  In 
among  them,  the  little  valleys,  the  gorges,  the  hollows 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  14$ 

and  canyons  far  below  were  in  gloom,  but  the  apparently 
endless  succession  of  peaks  and  ridges  and  jagged  out- 
line summits  were  still  tipped  with  the  glow  of  the  set- 
ting sun.  With  their  rough,  bold  lines  and  smooth, 
towering,  snow-capped  points  they  might,  in  that  light, 
have  been  the  gigantic,  leaping  billows  of  a  fearfully 
angered  sea  suddenly  metamorphosed  into  varicolored 
stone. 

The  friendly  burro  walked  over  to  the  man's  side  and, 
with  ears  forward,  peered  at  the  scene  which  Dan  was 
beholding  as  if  in  a  way  it,  too,  appreciated  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  view. 

Dan  put  a  hand  on  the  animal's  neck. 

"Remarkable  place,  Don  Quixote",  he  said,  and  the 
burro  waggled  an  ear.  "Wonderful  sight — what? 
There's  some  sort  of  quotation  about,  ' — Alps  on  Alps 
arise' — I  don't  suppose  you  remember  it.  Well,  it  really 
must  have  been  some  such  sight  as  this  that  inspired  it." 

The  burro  threw  back  its  head  with  a  high  motion 
and  saluted  the  world  with  a  hearty  bray.  Then  it 
resumed  its  grass-munching. 

With  a  laugh,  the  man  proceeded  to  make  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  night. 

***** 

So,  in  the  ensuing  days,  the  man  and  the  burro  wan- 
dered farther  into  the  mountain  country,  living  splen- 
didly in  the  open — peaceful  at  night  beneath  the  myriad 
stars  that  glorified  the  heavens.  Once  in  a  while  there 
came  to  them  the  tinkle  of  a  cowbell  from  some  far  val- 
ley, but  they  did  not  encounter  humans. 

If  the  burro  was  ever  puzzled  by  the  man's  meander- 
ings,  philosophically  it  appeared  not  to  take  heed  of 
them.  It  seemed  a  matter  of  indifference  to  Don  Quixote 
whether  the  man  insisted  on  their  plodding  up  mountain 


150  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

sides,  through  forests,  along  cliff-walled  canyons,  on 
range  summits,  across  mountain  table-lands,  camping 
wherever  nightfall  found  them,  or  whether  the  man  left 
his  faithful  companion  securely  picketed  and  then  scaled 
rocky  outcroppings,  chipping  off  bits  of  rock  here  and 
there  with  a  stout  geological  hammer.  Also  Don  Quix- 
ote, though  he  liked  companionship,  nevertheless  was 
unconcerned  as  to  whether  the  man  devoted  time  to  one- 
sided talks  with  him  after  the  day's  wanderings  were 
over,  or,  maintaining  tight-lipped  silence,  examined  the 
rock  specimens  which  he  had  collected  and  carried  along 
in  a  bag  slung  from  his  shoulder,  until  the  fading  light 
made  such  scrutiny  impossible. 

One  evening  the  man  took  counsel  with  himself  by 
the  method  of  expressing  his  thoughts  aloud  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Don  Quixote,  who  now  and  again  ceased  munch- 
ing the  abundant  mountain  grass  to  raise  his  head  a  little 
and  look  at  the  man  as  if  to  say : 

"Go  on,  old  chap,  don't  mind  my  eating  as  you  talk. 
I  am  getting  all  you  are  saying  and,  indeed,  I  quite  agree 
with  you." 

And  the  man  was  saying,  "We'll  give  this  locality 
another  whirl,  my  contented  companion  of  the  trail,  and 
then  if  there  is  nothing  stirring  we'll  hit  straight  out  for 
another  region  I  have  in  mind.  Maybe  we'd  run  into 
something  better  there.  And  here's  the  proposition, 
pure  and  simple — if  we  can't  find  what  we  want  there, 
then — don't  look  at  me  so  appealingly,  my  friend,  as  if 
fearing  a  dire  ultimatum,  for  necessity  makes  me  say 
these  words  in  all  candor — we,  perforce,  must  part  com- 
pany and  it  will  be  me  for  the  far,  frosty  north — that  is 
to  say,  Alaska." 

Don  Quixote  shook  his  head,  presumably  to  discour- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  151 

age  the  gnats,  and  then  gave  his  entire  attention  to  the 
grass. 

"Well,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I  guess  I'll  turn  in", 
remarked  Dan,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

The  next  morning  they  were  up  with  the  birds.  The 
morning  air  was  wonderfully  laden  with  the  fragrant 
breath  of  the  pines,  redolent  of  clean,  grass-covered, 
flower-adorned  and  tree-protected  mountain  slopes — 
gratifying,  invigorating,  stimulating. 

Bradshaw  reveled  in  this  great  out-of-doors  life.  It 
contented  the  longing  within  him  for  a  summertime  out- 
ing in  the  hills — that  longing  that  comes  to  every 
mountain  man,  no  matter  what  part  of  the  mountainous 
West  is  best  known  to  him.  Wherever  he  goes — in  his 
own  country  or  in  foreign  lands,  wherever  he  might  be — 
where  are  the  memories  of  the  departed  glories  of  the 
ancients,  or  in  modern  cities  amid  the  glories  of  the 
moderns — the  lure  of  the  mountains — which  is  really  the 
summons  of  the  great  West — is  strong  for  him  in  the 
days  of  summer,  so  that,  if  possible,  he  hies  himself 
back  to  where  he  can  see  them,  be  among  them,  breathe 
their  air,  be  re-invigorated  by  them.  To  him  they  are 
not  mere  scenery.  He  does  not  regard  them  as  objects 
of  geological  mischance  to  be  viewed  indifferently,  per- 
haps commented  on — and  forgotten.  But  they  live  and 
have  a  voice  for  him.  They  have  moods.  They  frown 
and  they  smile  benignly.  They  have  a  sort  of  human- 
ness  that  he  understands.  He  knows  them  as  symbols 
of  strength,  of  encouragement,  and  possessed  of  awe- 
inspiring  beauty.  And  knowing  them  so,  they  indeed 
are  a  solace  to  his  soul — emphasizing  the  vastness  of 
life's  big  things  and  the  littleness  of  life's  foibles. 

The  western  mountains — great,  rugged,  picturesque, 
magnificent — thrill  and  encourage  with  their  grandeur. 


152  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

They  bring  the  men  and  the  women,  who  know  and 
understand  them,  back  to  them  from  every  corner  of  the 
world  to  quiet  jangled  nerves,  to  revive  jaded  appetites 
and  restore  lost  illusions — to  put  the  soul  once  more  in 
harmony  with  the  Infinite. 

And  this  western  man,  who  was  searching  for  a 
precious  secret  locked  in  the  bosom  of  this  mountain 
land — he,  too,  was  under  the  spell  of  the  mountains  and 
fain  would  have  remained  in  them  for  the  sake  of  the 
joy  of  living  they  gave,  but  he  had  decided  not  to  linger 
among  them  if  the  search  he  was  so  diligently  making 
was  unrewarded,  for  he  had  come  to  them  this  time  with 
another  impelling  motive  that  he  hoped  to  make  not  only 
resultant  of  a  great  new  success,  but  also  a  vindication 
of  other  aspirations. 

The  man  and  the  burro  gradually  had  been  retracing 
their  course,  though  by  a  very  different  path,  and  they 
were  now  no  great  distance  from  the  town,  though  not 
at  all  where  they  could  see  it.  The  next  day,  they  came 
to  a  narrow,  natural  trail  that  led  around  a  somewhat 
precipitous  mountain  side  and  up  and  over  a  ridge  that 
was  as  the  frontier  of  a  less  explored  region.  Some- 
times they  were  out  in  the  open  where  the  moun- 
tain side  was  carpeted  with  brush  and  bunch-grass.  Then 
they  would  enter  a  thickly  wooded  swale  with  the  trees 
tall  and  solemn  above  them,  with  pine  needles  thick  be- 
neath their  feet  and  lacy  ferns  interlacing  in  multitudi- 
nous patterns.  And  often  in  the  very  midst  of  such 
woodlands  they  would  emerge  into  a  treeless  little  park 
that  was  nothing  more  than  a  natural  clearing  in  the 
woods,  covered  with  a  riot  of  wild-flowers  and  dappled 
with  the  golden  sunlight  that  filtered  through  the  foliage 
of  the  trees  at  its  edge — where  there  was  a  hush  of 
Nature,  a  beautiful  intensity  of  peace,  cathedral-like, 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  153 

while  the  colors  were  as  the  refractions  of  wonderfully 
tinted  temple  windows. 

Leaving  one  of  these  park-like  places,  they  came 
almost  abruptly  on  a  rocky,  ridge-like  projection,  as  if  a 
rock-rib  had  been  ruthlessly  pushed  through  the  grassy 
covering.  No  foot  of  man  seemed  ever  before  to  have 
disturbed  this  mountain  fastness. 

They  were  picking  their  way  carefully  over  this 
rough  outcropping  when  the  man,  stepping  on  what  he 
had  thought  to  be  a  knobby  projection,  scarcely  had 
time  to  realize  that  it  was  a  bit  of  loose  stone  before  he 
was  thrown  off  his  balance  and  would  have  experienced 
a  jarring,  if  not  far  more  serious  fall  over  the  edge  of 
the  dike,  had  it  not  been  that  he  retained  his  grip  on 
Don  Quixote's  halter  rope,  while  the  wise  and  far  more 
sure-footed  burro,  looking  quickly  around  at  the  clatter, 
braced  himself  firmly  and  securely.  Thus  saved,  the  man 
was  able  to  get  sufficient  toe  hold  on  the  rocks  to  aid  in 
drawing  himself  up  to  the  animal.  But  when  he  regained 
a  place  of  safety,  Dan  did  something  which  might  have 
mystified  the  burro  had  the  latter  been  capable  of  real- 
izing mystery,  for  apparently  intent  on  plunging  himself 
once  more  into  danger,  he  got  down  flat  and  wormed  his 
way  almost  over  the  identical  edge,  down  which  he  would 
have  fallen  a  few  moments  before,  had  it  not  been  for 
Don  Quixote's  sturdiness  and  the  strength  of  the  halter 
rope. 

Reaching  downward,  Dan  chipped  off  several  pieces 
of  rock  from  that  part  of  the  ledge  which  his  recent 
slipping  had  somewhat  broken,  and  worked  his  way  back 
beside  the  burro.  Each  of  the  specimens  he  had  secured, 
he  broke  into  smaller  pieces  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  with 
his  prospecting  hammer — so  decomposed  by  mineraliza- 
tion were  they.  Evidently  satisfied  by  his  scrutiny  of 


154  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

the  broken  specimens,  which  he  slowly  turned  over  and 
over,  he  dropped  them,  and  taking  the  halter  rein,  led 
Don  Quixote  to  safe  ground  at  the  end  of  the  dike  where 
he  picketed  the  burro  and  removed  its  load.  Don  Quix- 
ote watched  him  with  speculative  eye  as  Dan  took  a 
measuring  tape  from  his  supply  kit  and  began  pacing  off 
certain  distances  around  the  outcropping  until  he  dis^ 
appeared  from  sight  of  the  burro  among  the  trees. 
After  an  interval,  Bradshaw  returned  and  replaced  the 
tape  in  the  kit.  He  then  chopped  down  a  small  tree, 
removed  its  branches  and  caused  it  to  stand  upright  near 
the  dike  by  planting  it  in  the  ground  and  piling  rocks 
around  its  base.  Next  he  emptied  one  of  his  small  supply 
boxes  and  fastened  it  at  the  top  of  the  pole  he  had 
erected  so  that  the  box  would  form  a  little  shelter  for 
whatever  he  might  place  in  it.  Seemingly  pleased  with 
the  preparations  he  thus  far  had  made,  he  took  a  blank 
mine  location  notice  from  its  place  in  the  pack  and  with 
his  fountain  pen  proceeded  to  fill  it  in.  That  done,  he 
fastened  the  location  notice  in  the  little  shelter  he  had 
arranged  on  the  pole.  He  next  brought  a  pick  and  shovel 
from  his  outfit  and  marked  off  a  rectangular  space  on 
the  ground  where  he  was  to  excavate  sufficiently  for 
location  purposes. 

Don  Quixote  came  nosing  inquisitively  up  to  Dan,  and 
the  latter  jovially  slapped  the  burro  on  the  neck. 

"Old  Sport!"  he  exclaimed — "I  hope  you  don't  mind 
my  calling  you  that — it  looks  as  ff  we  might  be  in  on 
something  good !" 

A  few  days  later,  Dan  entered  the  office  of  the  clerk 
and  recorder  in  the  town  from  which  he  had  started  and 
duly  complied  with  all  the  legal  requirements  for  record- 
ing the  location  of  the  "M.  N."  quartz  lode  claim.  And 
while  Don  Quixote  ate  his  fill  of  oats  and  hay  in  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  155 

livery  stable,  Dan  took  several  ore  specimens  to  an  as- 
sayer. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Bradshaw  called  for  the 
assay  returns  and  then  went  to  the  bank  where  he  had 
deposited  his  money,  but  as  it  was  not  yet  open  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  livery  stable  where  he  engaged  the  propri- 
etor in  conversation  anent  the  hauling  of  ore,  the  fixing 
of  mountain  roads  and  other  such  matters.  Later,  when 
the  bank  had  opened,  Dan  returned  and  had  a  lengthy 
talk  with  the  bank's  president,  an  alert  and  enterprising 
man. 

In  the  afternoon,  Bradshaw  made  his  way  via  rented 
automobile  to  one  of  the  irrigation  project  camps,  where 
he  engaged  the  services  of  two  ditch  diggers  who  were 
ready  to  leave  their  work  for  something  of  a  different 
and  more  promising  character. 

There  is  a  romance  in  the  business  of  mining  that  no 
words  can  express.  The  mining  game  is  the  cleanest, 
most  diverting  and  most  fascinating  gamble  that  the 
laws  of  Chance  ever  have  devised  for  mankind.  It  is 
indeed  a  creator  of  industry.  It  greatly  aids  humanity's 
progress  without  in  the  slightest  depriving  humanity  of 
what  it  already  possesses.  It  may  mean  the  attainment 
of  ambition's  most  vivid  hopes,  or  it  may  condemn  to 
unrequited  longings.  The  history  of  any  important  min- 
ing discovery  is  a  story  not  only  of  romance,  but  of 
daring,  of  adventure,  of  devotion  to  duty  and  of  unre- 
mitting faith. 

All  such  factors  contributed  to  the  unfolding  history 
of  the  "M.  N."  mine  and  the  continuing  disclosure  of  its 
remarkably  rich  veins. 

Before  the  snows  of  the  winter  following  its  discov- 
ery had  come  to  blanket  the  mountain  region  with  white, 
there  was  a  very  practical  hoisting  plant,  consisting 


156  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

chiefly  of  a  wooden  gallows  frame  and  a  wooden  engine 
house  protecting  an  energetic  gasoline  hoist,  also  a  busy 
little  stamp-mill  and  a  small  huddle  of  miners'  and  mill- 
men's  cabins  on  the  hill  slope  just  above  the  dike  where, 
one  summer  afternoon,  a  man  had  slipped  and  fallen  and 
saved  himself  by  clinging  to  the  halter  rope  of  a  steady 
and  sturdy  little  burro. 

The  product  of  the  stamp-mill  was  adding  to  the 
growing  bank  reserve  of  D.  Williams,  enabling  him  to 
begin  the  rapid  repayment,  with  interest,  of  the  loan 
he  had  received  from  the  banker  who  had  manifested 
proper  faith  in  the  "M.  N.". 

One  day  in  the  late  Fall  of  the  year  in  which  he  had 
located  the  "M.  N.",  Bradshaw  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  to  town  where  he  made  sundry  purchases  of  clothes 
in  which  he  lost  no  time  in  arraying  himself.  That 
evening  he  was  a  passenger  for  a  city  sixty  miles  away 
— the  nearest  on  the  main  line  of  the  railroad.  The  fol- 
lowing morning,  this  tanned,  bearded  and  vigorous-look- 
ing man,  neat  in  his  new  blue  suit  and  soft,  gray  shirt 
with  loosely  knotted  tie,  with  new  shoes  of  a  style  and 
quality  that  indulged  his  liking  for  good  foot-wear,  and 
with  his  new  stiff-brimmed  cowboy  hat  pulled  down  over 
Jiis  eyes,  took  his  place  in  the  observation  car  of  a  famous 
"through"  train  that  was  to  take  him  to  the  destination 
printed  on  his  ticket — Butte. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  RETURN 

John  Walton,  adding  to  his  editorial  repute  with  a 
successful  novel,  was  pursuing  a  busy  career  of  news- 
paper work  and  book-writing,  with  gratifying  success. 
He  had  few  intimate  friendships,  and  those  were  of  the 
understanding  kind. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Bradshaw  had 
boarded  the  "through"  train  for  Butte,  Walton  was  a 
visitor  at  the  Norton  home.  There  he  encountered  Ger- 
ald Tharny,  suave  and  preserving  his  veneer  of  smiling 
friendliness. 

Tharny  maintained  a  rather  elaborate  mining  office 
in  Butte.  For  the  past  year  he  had  been  the  Montana 
representative  of  a  big  Spokane  mining  syndicate.  He 
enjoyed  a  certain  popularity  in  business  circles  and  was 
accounted  a  good  "filler-in"  a?  parties  and  dinners.  He 
was  of  medium  height,  not  bulky,  nor  yet  thin,  and  car- 
ried himself  erect.  His  features  were  regular,  his  eyes 
a  bit  too  narrow,  his  hair  brushed  back  with  satiny  pre- 
cision, and  he  had  a  small,  neat  mustache.  He  had  a 
fund  of  ready  talk — of  athletic  events,  of  travel  and  the 
like.  With  pretended  modesty  he  never  failed  to  seek 
plenty  of  self-advertising: 

Tharny  never  overlooked  an  opportunity  to  impress 
Mary  Norton  favorably.  His  always  well-groomed  ap- 
pearance, his  careful  thoughtfulness  regarding  her  in  all 


158  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

those  little  matters  which  a  woman  so  readily  notices, 
and  his  seeming  devotion  to  her,  indeed  had  won  the  very 
friendly  consideration  of  this  unspoiled  girl. 

Walton  did  not  like  him.  Trained  by  his  profession 
in  the  ability  to  make  quick  and  keen  analysis  of  men 
and  women,  the  newspaperman  in  mind  had  classified 
Tharny  as  "a  first  class  four-flusher",  a  snob  at  heart 
and  a  sharper  in  disposition. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening's  conversation,  the  talk 
had  come  to  a  consideration  of  the  then  harmonious  con- 
ditions in  the  mining  city. 

"I  never  have  seen  times  so  good  here  as  right  now", 
Norton  was  saying.  "There  has  come  a  period  in  the 
swing  around  the  circle  of  Butte's  affairs,  as  I  think  of  it, 
when  all  is  peace,  harmony  and  progress." 

"We  have  been  rather  free  from  agitators",  remarked 
Tharny. 

"Doubtless  that  accounts  for  our  peaceful  status 
right  now",  returned  Norton.  "I  think  that  self-ap- 
pointed reformers  and  radicalists  of  the  anarchistic  and 
ultra-socialistic  type  frequently  are  led  by  their  biased 
views  of  what  should  be  done  into  pernicious  radicalisms 
merely  in  order  to  try  to  gain  their  own  ends.  There  is 
all  too  often  an  utter  lack  of  sincerity  because  of  there 
being  so  much  of  the  personal  entity  In  their  actions  and 
hopes." 

"There  is  great  truth  in  that",  declared  Walton. 
"The  professional  reformer,  encouraged  by  success  in  one 
direction,  plunges  in  to  attempt  the  immediate  rectifica- 
tion of  what  he  considers  abuses  in  other  things,  and  is 
apt  to  become  the  exponent  of  an  intolerance  that  is  not 
only  the  expression  of  merely  captious  ideas,  but  a  hin- 
drance to  really  worthy  endeavors.  The  red-anarchist 
thinks  red,  sees  red  and  acts  that  way.  He  wants  de- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  159 

struction  of  government,  of  any  and  everything  that  has 
semblance  of  organization  except  his  own.  After  all,  he 
wants  nothing  other  than  very  special  privileges  for  him- 
self. And  the  socialist  may  be  prone  to  going  off  on  the 
tangent  of  socialistic  standard.  He  often  injects  the 
personal  entity  to  a  very  marked  degree.  He  wants  all 
temperaments,  all  human  ideas  and  methods  subjugated 
to  the  rule-of-thumb  principles  he  lays  down." 

"It  does  seem",  said  Mary  Norton  slowly,  "as  if 
there  can  be  such  surfeit  even  of  good  conditions,  of 
progress  and  perhaps  happiness  that  the  contraries  must 
arise  to  accentuate,  as  it  were,  the  goodness  or  joy  of 
the  blessings — just  as  storm  accentuates  sunshine,  and 
darkness  emphasizes  the  light,  and  evil  impresses  the 
world  with  the  value  of  goodness." 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Tharny.  "A  mighty  well  ex- 
pressed idea!" 

DeWitt  Norton  laughed  and  looked  fondly  at  his 
charming  sister. 

"Quite  as  good  as  a  novelist  might  have  said  it — eh, 
Walton?" 

"Many  times  better  than  most  of  them",  Tharny  has- 
tened to  add. 

"You  two  are  teasing  me  now",  said  Mary  with  a 
slight  pout,  but  her  eyes  seemed  to  smile.  "Mr.  Walton, 
you  say  in  your  book — " 

But  the  writer  interrupted  with  mock  entreaty. 

"Please,  Miss  Mary — please  do  not  compel  us  to  en- 
dure anything  of  what  I  have  perpetrated.  You  can  only 
hold  me  to  account  for  what  I  may  do  in  future.  You 
cannot  make  your  punishments  retroactive  if  I  show  a 
repentant  spirit  now." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  at  him. 

"I  wasn't  going  to  hold  you  to  account — only  going 


160  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

to  substantiate  myself.  As  I  have  told  you  before,  I  like 
your  book  very  much.  Margaret  and  I  used  to  talk  of 
it  when  we  were  in  New  York  during  the  winter,  and 
you  were  down  in  California  writing  it.  We  wondered 
how  it  was  coming  along  and  Margaret  was  greatly  in- 
terested. She  even  wrote  to  me  from  Palm  Beach  asking 
if  I  knew  anything  more  of  it." 

Walton  smiled. 

"Miss  Hanlon  was  most  gracious  in  what  she  wrote 
to  me  about  it  after  it  was  published",  he  confessed. 

"I  think  I'll  have  to  write  a  book",  remarked  Tharny. 

Mary  favored  him  with  a  smile. 

"Do,  Mr.  Tharny,  and  win  fame",  she  said. 

"It  wouldn't  be  for  that  reason",  he  declared,  "but  to 
try  to  win  the  approval  of  such  charming  critics  as  your- 
self and  Miss  Hanlon." 

*         *         *         *         * 

When  Walton  arrived  at  his  newspaper  building  later 
that  night  he  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  busy 
news-room  to  inquire  as  to  various  happenings  of  the 
day  and  to  glance  over  some  of  the  Associated  Press 
duplicates  in  the  telegraph  editor's  office.  As  he  was 
about  to  pass  on  to  the  city  editor's  coop,  the  office  boy, 
who  had  just  entered,  informed  him  that  a  visitor,  who 
claimed  close  acquaintanceship,  was  awaiting  him. 
Then,  as  he  stepped  into  his  own  snug  office,  Walton  saw 
a  well  built  man  seated  near  the  desk.  The  visitor  stood 
up  as  Walton  placed  his  hat  on  its  hanger  near  the  door 
and  then  strode  towards  the  man  who  awaited  him. 

The  visitor  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Not  Dan — not  Dan  Bradshaw?"  Walton  demanded, 
accepting  the  proffered  hand  and  looking  keenly  at  the 
other.  "Why,  of  course  it  is!  Why  Dan — you  sight  for 
weary  eyes  and  aching  heart !" 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  161 

"Are  you  really  glad  to  see  me,  John?" 

"I  ought  to  order  you  out  for  that  question — you 
pirate  you!"  declared  the  newspaperman  again  tighten- 
ing the  clasp  of  his  hand,  and  the  look  he  gave  his  friend 
was  enough  answer  to  the  question. 

Walton  pushed  Bradshaw  back  into  his  chair  and, 
seating  himself  at  his  desk,  regarded  the  other  intently. 

"You  surely  are  looking  fit,  Dan,  and  it  takes  a  close 
friend's  sharp  eye,  in  fact,  some  one  who  knew  you  most 
intimately  to  penetrate  your  disguise." 

Then  he  would  not  let  Bradshaw  say  more  than  a  few 
words  to  him  for,  as  he  explained,  they  were  subject  to 
interruption  where  they  were.  He  would  take  his  visitor 
to  lunch  and  then  to  his  apartment  for  a  real,  heart  to 
heart  talk. 

But  before  they  arrived  at  Walton's  rooms,  the  news- 
paperman had  first  told  Bradshaw  of  how  he  had  received 
a  letter  from  Dan,  telling  of  the  latter's  intention  to  go 
up  into  the  mountains,  how  Walton  had  concurred  in 
Dan's  desiring  to  be  known  as  D.  Williams  until  such 
time  as  he  had  rehabilitated  his  condition,  how  he  had 
sent  for  Paddy  Skiff  and  given  him  the  information  Dan 
had  sent  to  the  faithful  Paddy,  via  Dan's  letter  to  Wal- 
ton, how  the  newspaperman  had  been  on  the  verge  of 
going  to  seek  Dan,  having  had  an  inkling  as  to  where 
Dan  might  be  after  getting  the  letter  from  him.  "But 
my  faith  in  you  restrained  me",  Walton  said.  "I  did  not 
want  to  intrude  on  you  at  a  time  when  you  were  work- 
ing out  your  own  salvation.  I  took  your  word  as  you 
gave  it  to  me  in  your  letter  that  you  would  return  some 
day,  and  when  that  day  came  it  would  be  one  of  joyful 
reunion  for  us  both.  And  so  it  is.  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  again  that  you  look  great,  Dan,  You  look  like  a  man 


162  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

who  really  has  found  himself  and,  by  Jove,  I'm  happier 
than  I've  been  in  years." 

Then  Walton  had  given  Dan  other  information — 
how,  on  returning  from  California,  naturally  worried  at 
not  having  received  answers  to  his  last  two  letters  to 
Dan,  he  had  located  Paddy  Skiff,  and  Paddy  had  told 
him  that  Bradshaw  had  left  Butte,  hinting  that  the 
breaking  up  of  the  League  might  have  made  him  consider 
things  too  unpleasant  in  Butte  for  him  and  thus  have 
caused  him  to  get  away  for  a  time ;  how  Paddy,  presently, 
had  admitted  that  he  did  not  know  exactly  when  Dan  had 
gone  or  where,  but  that  he  felt  Dan  was  safe  and  sound 
and  would  turn  up  again,  saying,  "Sure,  an'  the  boy 
could  well  have  takin'  me  into  his  confidence  as  to  his 
goin',  but  thin  he  must  have  had  a  rayson  fer  so  doin' 
an'  I'll  not  kick  but  jus'  wait  fer  his  commin'  back." — 
How  even  then  the  newspaperman  and  Paddy  had  admit- 
ted to  each  other  their  uneasiness  about  Dan,  and  had 
considered  the  advisability  of  getting  police  aid  in  an 
effort  to  locate  him,  but  then  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  if  he  had  gone  into  retirement  somewhere  for  a 
time,  such  action  on  their  part  might  embarrass  and  per- 
haps injure  him.  How  they  even  considered  the  chance 
of  Dan  having  met  with  foul-play  which  made  them  the 
more  anxious  to  get  trace  of  him,  though  they  tried  to 
convince  themselves  that  if  such  were  the  case,  he  was 
beyond  their  help  and  that  the  true  facts  would  come  out 
sooner  or  later.  How,  nevertheless,  the  newspaperman, 
still  troubled,  slipped  over  to  police  headquarters  to  ask 
his  friend,  McConnor  the  chief  of  detectives,  to  do  a 
little  secret  scouting  and  how,  on  leaving  the  detective's 
office,  the  newspaperman  had  met  Paddy  who  also  had 
been  bent  on  seeing  McConnor.  McConnor  had  definitely 
rounded  up  the  information  that  two  men  had  seen  Dan 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  163 

climb  aboard  a  box  car  sidetracked  at  the  water  tank 
near  the  head  of  Working  Lane  and  that  a  few  minutes 
later  the  car  had  been  switched  away  from  there.  So 
then,  Walton  and  Paddy  had  rested  more  at  ease  as  to 
Dan's  safety.  From  time  to  time  Paddy  would  come  to 
Walton  to  see  if  word  had  been  received  from  Bradshaw. 

"When  I  got  your  letter  and  let  him  know",  Walton 
went  on,  "we  were  about  as  happy  as  any  two  persons 
in  Butte.  But  here's  some  real  news",  and  Walton 
paused  a  moment  while  Bradshaw  looked  at  him  expec- 
tantly. "Because  of  your  not  being  able  to  be  present, 
Paddy  and  his  bride-elect  dispensed  with  the  church 
ceremony  they  otherwise  would  have  had,  and  he  and  the 
charming  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity  and  myself  went  to  the 
priest's  house  one  evening  where  Mrs.  I.  H.  became  Mrs. 
Paddy  Skiff." 

Whereupon  Bradshaw  slapped  the  table  in  surprise. 
"Well,  well," — he  exclaimed, — "and  so  the  determined 
Paddy  Skiff  is  married  at  last !  Good  enough !  Of  course 
I'll  see  him  before  I  leave." 

Walton  gave  Dan  one  more  bit  of  news  before  they 
reached  the  newspaperman's  apartments,  and  it  also 
concerned  Paddy. 

"He  enjoys  his  connubial  bliss  as  a  real  householder 
and  does  not  work  in  a  mine  now,  but  keeps  the  books 
and  does  some  of  the  bossing  at  the  Hotel  Skiff,  for- 
merly the  well-known  boarding  house  of  Mrs.  Inez  Har- 
rity." 

When  they  entered  Walton's  cheerful  library,  the 
miner  surveyed  the  familiar  room  from  the  threshold. 

"Great !"  he  exclaimed.  "The  same  old  place.  Looks 
just  as  good  to  me  as  ever.  No,  a  thousand  times  better 
than  ever  before." 

"These  rooms  are  about  as  homelike  as  rooms  can  be", 


164  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

agreed  Walton.  "And  come  to  think  of  it,  young  man,  I 
believe  I've  kept  these  rooms  as  much  because  of  you  as 
for  any  reason  of  my  own." 

"My  thanks  for  that",  declared  Bradshaw,  "and  my 
thanks  also  for  still  considering  me  a  young  man  despite 
my  very  mature  beard.  You  see",  he  went  on  jocundly, 
"I  am  indeed  a  real  man." 

There  was,  in  truth,  a  thorough  manliness  about  the 
miner  that  was  a  fulfillment  of  an  earlier  promise. 
There  was  greater  reserve  and  sureness ;  stronger  poise, 
calmer  strength.  Not  only  had  Bradshaw  come  to  his 
prime  physically,  the  newspaperman  noted,  but  he  gave 
evidence  of  a  broadened  mental  scope,  a  sounder  judg- 
ment and,  certainly,  a  self-reliance  that  was  most  grati- 
fying. To  Walton  he  was  the  same  friend,  essentially 
the  same  man  as  before,  only  more  ripened.  But  to  one 
who  had  not  studied  him  so  closely,  known  him  so  well 
and  judged  him  so  rightly  in  other  days,  he  might  now 
have  been  an  entire  stranger  in  mannerisms  as  well  as 
looks. 

Bradshaw  quickly  demanded  Walton's  book  and, 
when  his  friend  handed  him  a  copy,  the  miner  grew  en- 
thusiastic about  its  publisher,  its  makeup  and  promise  of 
interest. 

"You  can't  read  it  now",  declared  the  writer  taking 
the  book  from  Dan  and  tossing  it  on  the  library  table. 
"That  is  your  copy  to  take  with  you  and  read  at  your 
leisure,  but  tonight  you  belong  to  me  personally  and 
though  we've  waited  until  we  got  up  here  for  your  story, 
I  am  becoming  mighty  impatient  for  it." 

Comfortably  ensconced  in  big,  easy  chairs,  the  soft- 
ened glow  of  the  library  lamp  the  room's  only  illumina- 
tion, their  pipes  lighted  and  thick  smoke  wreaths  curling 
above  their  heads,  they  were  ready. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  165 

"I  was  in  California  at  the  time  you  left,  you  know", 
remarked  Walton.  "Now  tell  me  why,  when  and  how  you 
departed  from  Butte." 

The  miner  looked  calmly  at  the  newspaperman  and 
his  face  was  inscrutable. 

"Shanghaied!"  he  said  briefly. 

Then  he  told  his  story. 

After  the  little  pause  that  followed  the  recital,  Wal- 
ton said: 

"Have  you  still  the  same  ideas  of  social  economy, 
Dan?" 

"Don't  tell  me,  after  I  get  through,  that  more  or  less 
personal  success  is  a  big  factor  in  changing  a  man's 
humanitarian  views",  answered  Bradshaw  with  a  laugh. 
"That  is  not  a  fixed  rule — I  can  cite  you  dozens  of  in- 
stances to  the  contrary.  If  my  ideas  have  undergone  a 
change,  it  is  not  the  result  of  whatever  success  I  may  be 
achieving,  but  because  I  have  had  a  chance  to  get  some 
real  introspection  and  retrospection  at  a  safe  distance. 
I  still  think  that  evolution  will  continue  to  bring  bene- 
ficial changes  just  as  it  always  has.  But  it  must  be  a 
logical  evolution  that  finds  man  entirely  ready,  by  reason 
of  other  progress,  for  each  new  feature  of  it  as  it  comes. 
Those  who  are  continually  hoping  for  the  evolving  of 
new  ideas  and  methods,  also  must  get  themselves  more 
in  tune,  and  experience  a  lot  of  personal  evolution  to  a 
safer  and  saner  view  of  many  of  the  things  they  advo- 
cate. When  the  purpose  of  evolution  is  suddenly  carried 
into  effect  with  the  speed  which  many  of  the  evolu- 
tionists, we  might  call  them,  desire,  it  is  apt  to  be  a 
dangerous  radicalism,  and  the  shock  of  it  on  unprepared 
and  chiefly  on  unreasoning  and  unreasonable  minds  is 
too  much — it  is  apt  to  mean  disorganization  rather  than 
equitable  progress.  If  all  the  people  of  an  autocratic 


166  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

monarchy,  for  instance,  or  the  vast  majority  of  them  are 
ready  to  cast  off  their  yoke  of  oppressive  government 
and  institute  a  far  more  liberal  one,  then  the  venture 
may  be  a  success,  though  many  unrestrained  acts  some- 
times attend  such  movements  until  the  sentiment  of  the 
people  crystallizes.  When  just  a  small  coterie  brings 
about  such  overthrow,  a  virulent  chaos  and  unreasoning 
orgy  of  law  defiance  may  result,  because  that  is  a  sudden 
radicalism  for  which  the  people  are  unprepared  and  the 
shock  of  it  is  too  much  for  them." 

.  "But  your  leadership — your  people — what  of  them?" 
asked  the  newspaperman. 

Bradshaw  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"I  was  sincere",  he  said.  "Please  don't  think  me  ego- 
tistical in  what  I  am  going  to  say,  but  imagine  we  are 
speaking  of  some  third  person.  That  kind  of  leadership 
possibly  might  have  helped  them,  because  even  if  it  did 
have,  perhaps,  too  much  of  the  personal  equation  in  it, 
it  was  the  kind  that  would  not  have  left  them  in  the 
lurch  or  brought  them  up  against  antagonisms  which 
they  could  not  hope  to  overcome.  And  it  meant  to  have 
an  educational  value  in  it.  It  would  have  tried  to  show 
each  and  every  one  of  them  the  reason  for  ambition  and 
progress.  I  thought  they  were  seeing  it  that  way — but 
they  weren't." 

"And  so  it  failed." 

"Yes.  They  wanted  at  one  fell  swoop  what  they  were 
not  content  to  get  by  due  process  of  learning  and  en- 
deavor— to  obtain  in  a  way  that  would  be  for  the  real 
betterment  of  all  concerned.  Direct  Action  sophistry  ap- 
pealed to  them  because  they  thought  it  would  bring 
immediately  what  they  wanted  and  so,  of  course,  they 
did  not  see  that  Direct  Actionism,  all  that  it  urges  and 
means,  would  be  the  destruction  of  their  chance  for 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  167 

proper  industry.  They  could  not  see  that  progress  is 
dependent  on  being  constructive  and  not  destructive. 
They  wanted  actually  to  put  into  practice  only  the  prop- 
osition of  might  being  right,  the  very  fault  which  they 
were  so  ready  to  ascribe  to  others  and  bitterly  berate." 

Bradshaw  paused  to  light  his  pipe. 

"Why,  John,  that  last  meeting  of  the  League  was  an 
eye-opener,  I  can  tell  you.  The  conventions  and  the 
notions  of  evolution  and  all  the  smug  preachings  of  doc- 
trinaires were  stripped  clear  away.  It  was  a  return  to 
the  primitive — the  primogenial  tribe  battling  for  a 
carcass." 

"And  now  what  do  you  propose  to  do  since  you  are 
becoming  more  and  more  the  employer?"  asked  Walton 
smilingly. 

"Put  my  ideas  of  equitable  leadership  into  equitable 
employing",  replied  the  miner.  "I'm  not  going  to  turn 
my  property  over  to  any  semi-political,  semi-theoristic 
organization  such  as  the  socialistic  fraternity  to  run. 
Why,  even  if  any  advocate  of  the  socialistic  doctrine 
should  prove  thoroughly  capable  of  conducting  a  social- 
istic industrial  enterprise,  as  I  so  often  have  heard  ultra- 
socialist  advocates  outline  it,  he  would  have  to  be 
thoroughly  managerial  even  to  the  extent  of  exercising 
strict  discipline  and  the  like,  in  order  to  make  it  a  success 
for  the  benefit  of  the  rest — and  so  turmoil  would  be  cre- 
ated in  the  ranks  and  the  usual  jealousies  and  all  that. 
And  he  would  be  cast  headlong  from  the  organization, 
whereupon  the  industry  could  go  its  uninterrupted  way 
to  smash.  I  think,  John,  that  the  great  trouble  with 
most  of  those  ultra-socialistic  'soap-boxers'  is  that  they 
have  not  thought  of  applying  their  own  theory  and 
process  of  evolution  to  themselves  before  tackling  any- 
thing else.  As  for  the  anarchists — well,  why  speak  of  a 


168  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

proposition  that  is  merely  a  wish  for  a  wildness 
prompted  by  a  desire  to  carry  into  effect  every  notion, 
no  matter  how  erratic,  that  pops  into  a  disgruntled  and 
trouble-seeking  man's  or  woman's  head?" 

Bradshaw  laid  aside  his  pipe. 

"John,  I've  got  a  fight  on  my  hands",  he  said,  sud- 
denly switching  the  conversation. 

"A  fight?"  demanded  Walton  in  surprise. 

"It  involves  a  claim  to  apex  rights — probability  of 
mining  litigation",  Dan  responded.  "Tell  you  all  about 
it  before  I  leave  Butte." 

"Tell  me  now." 

"It's  not  serious — yet.  I'll  tell  you  before  I  leave.  If 
I  get  it  cleared  up,  some  day  I'll  make  a  good  proposition 
to  you.  Now  don't  shake  your  head — I  know  you  don't 
need  it,  but  you  would  make  one  to  me  if  you  thought  I 
needed  it." 

"We  won't  go  into  those  'proposition'  details  right 
now,  Dan,  my  reformed  anarchist",  decreed  Walton  with 
a  smile.  "We're  too  busy  being  glad  to  see  each  other." 

Bradshaw  glanced  at  his  watch  and  sprang  from  his 
chair. 

"Yes  and  I'm  keeping  you  up  till  daylight",  he  de- 
clared. 

"You're  not  keeping  me  up — I'm  the  human  night 
owl",  protested  Walton  with  a  laugh. 

But  Bradshaw  shook  his  head. 

"Another  day  coming",  he  said.  "Also,  in  this  com- 
ing day,  John,  I  intend  calling  on  one  Paddy  Skiff.  I 
want  him  to  locate  a  miner  named  Jackson  and  I  want 
both  Paddy  and  Jackson  and  perhaps  a  few  other  men 
to  come  out  to  the  mine.  I've  also  got  to  get  some  mining 
supplies." 

Walton  stood  up  and  Bradshaw  placed  a  hand  on  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  169 

newspaperman's  shoulder. 

"One  thing  more,  John.  I  told  you  in  my  letter  that 
I  was  D.  Williams  for  the  time  being.  I  still  am,  but 
perhaps  not  for  so  much  longer  now.  It  is  not  so  much 
of  an  assumed  name,  for  Daniel  Williams  Bradshaw  is 
my  complete  title,  and  soon  I  hope  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
some  more  facts  you  haven't  even  guessed  at  as  to  the 
why  and  wherefore  of  my  wanting  to  let  the  Bradshaw 
part  rest  right  now.  Paddy  Skiff  won't  say  anything 
about  it.  The  only  two  others  who  know  of  it  are 
respecting  my  wishes  regarding  it.  One  is  the  clerk  and 
recorder  with  whom  I  filed  my  location  notice  in  my 
entire  name  and  who  is  going  to  be  my  chief  clerk  when 
his  term  of  office  expires,  and  the  other  is  the  hard- 
headed,  close-mouthed  banker  with  whom  I  did  business 
and  of  whom  I  have  told  you.  As  for  Jackson  and  the 
other  men  who  might  go  to  the  mine  from  here  with 
Paddy — they  will  only  know  that  they  are  working  for 
Paddy  Skiff  and,  if  they  care  to  make  inquiry  about  it, 
that  some  fellow  named  Williams  owns  the  mine." 

"Your  word  is  law  with  me,  Dan",  said  Walton  smil- 
ing, as  he  laid  his  hand  affectionately  on  the  other's  arm. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  REAL  THARNY 

Norton's  private  office  was  invaded  by  a  very  wel- 
come visitor  the  following  morning. 

"Well  well,  what  special  business  brings  you  down 
town  so  early?"  demanded  Norton  of  his  sister  with 
smiling  interest  as  he  placed  a  chair  for  her. 

"Serious  business,  DeWitt",  she  replied,  as  she 
seated  herself  and  he  resumed  his  place  at  his  desk. 
"My  Malvey  family  is  sick — Dr.  Gilmore  told  me  about 
it  as  he  was  passing  the  house  this  morning." 

"And  so,  of  course",  her  brother  put  in,  "you  have 
come  rushing  down  to  go  right  up  there  to  Working 
Lane's  innermost  recesses  to  give  personal  attention  to 
the  ailing  ones." 

"Oh  yes,  I'm  going  up  there",  she  returned  with  quiet 
determination.  "I  rather  thought  when  I  was  there  a 
few  days  ago  that  Mrs.  Malvey  looked  on  the  verge  of 
illness,  though  she  denied  it.  And  now  she  really  is 
sick." 

"What's  the  matter  with  her?"  he  asked. 

"Typhoid." 

"You're  not  going  up  there.  I  am  heart  and  soul 
with  your  efforts  to  do  all  you  can  for  deserving  ones 
you've  found  in  Working  Lane  who  need  help,  but  when 
it  comes  to  nursing  typhoid  patients — " 

But  she  interrupted  him  with  a  little  laugh. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  171 

"Not  to  do  any  nursing,  old  silly.  Dr.  Gilmore  is  just 
as  interested  as  I  am,  bless  his  dear  old  heart,  and  he 
has  a  woman  staying  with  Mrs.  Malvey  and  looking  after 
the  children,  two  of  whom,  by  the  way,  have  chicken- 
pox." 

Norton  groaned  and  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  ges- 
ture of  despair. 

"Typhoid — chicken-pox!  And  you  want  to  dash 
madly  up  there  to  supervise  the  Malvey  home.  Can't 
you  send  them  everything  they  need  without  having  to 
jeapordize  yourself?" 

"It  isn't  just  the  giving  of  things",  she  replied.  "The 
personal  concern — the  showing  that  one  really  cares,  is 
what  actually  does  the  most  good.  And  I  do  care.  Any- 
how, I've  had  chicken-pox.  Dr.  Gilmore  says  there  is  no 
danger  if  the  proper  precautions  are  taken,  and  he's  told 
me  how  to  take  them.  I  simply  must  go  up  there,  De- 
Witt,  and  take  some  things  along  for  the  children.  And, 
incidentally,  it's  my  day  for  dropping  in  on  old  Mrs. 
Grady.  But  what  I  came  to  see  you  about  mostly",  she 
went  on  briskly,  "was  to  ask  the  loan  of  Gus  from  you 
to  drive  the  car  up  for  me." 

"Where  is  your  own  chauffeur?"  he  asked. 

"I  gave  him  the  day  off — there's  a  picnic  he  wanted 
to  attend.  So  far  as  going  up  the  Lane  is  concerned,  I 
wouldn't  have  the  least  fear,  but  the  road  through  the 
Lane  is  not  easy." 

"There  is  no  denying  you,  Sis",  he  said  fondly.  "Gus 
shall  take  you  up",  and  Norton  reached  for  his  desk  tele- 
phone to  make  rapid  arrangements  to  that  effect. 

"Gus  and  the  car  will  be  outside  in  two  minutes",  he 
informed  her  as  he  hung  up  the  receiver.  Then  as  she 
rose,  he  went  over  to  her,  and,  holding  her  with  a  hand 
on  either  shoulder,  he  looked  into  her  eyes, 


172  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Look  here,  little  sis,  I  can't  have  you  taking  needless 
risks.  I  glory  in  that  good  heart  of  yours  that 
makes  you  do  these  things,  but",  with  a  little  laugh,  "I 
guess  I  am  a  bit  selfish  where  you  are  concerned",  and  he 
kissed  her. 

When  Mary  emerged  from  the  Monticana  building, 
Gus  and  Norton's  machine  were  at  the  curb,  and  the 
chauffeur  jumped  out  quickly  to  open  the  door  for  her. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  Tharny,  coming  along, 
saw  her  and  at  once  approached  her,  his  hat  in  hand.  He 
was  his  usual  well-groomed  self  and,  as  always  when  in 
her  presence,  politely  affable. 

She  gave  him  a  friendly  smile  and  paused  to  welcome 
him.  And  to  his  half -bantering  remark  that  she  was  out 
rather  early  for  a  pleasure  ride,  she  replied  with  the  dis- 
closure of  her  true  mission. 

"You  are  venturing  up  into  Working  Lane  unes- 
corted?" he  asked  in  surprise. 

"You  forget  Gus",  she  answered.  "Besides",  and  she 
spoke  a  bit  spiritedly,  "it  would  be  ridiculous  to  think  of 
fearing  to  go  up  there.  Working  Lane  is  thoroughly 
honest — and  true  to  itself,  which  is  more  perhaps  than 
might  be  said  of  some  other  and  more  favored  parts  of 
the  city.  Of  course  there  is  plenty  of  roughness  there, 
but  no  one  in  the  Lane  would  say  anything  unpleasant  to 
me  without  some  one  there  quickly  resenting  it." 

She  smiled  as  she  pictured  in  mind  a  scene  of  that 
sort  and  a  quick  championing  of  her  cause,  but  Tharny 
misinterpreted  her  smile,  thinking  it  was  meant  for  him. 

Also  he  apparently  thought  he  saw  a  further  oppor- 
tunity to  ingratiate  himself  with  Mary  Norton,  who,  in- 
deed, had  come  to  be  so  very  much  in  his  thoughts  and  his 
schemings,  too. 

"Let  me  go  with  you",  he  pleaded,    "Tell  me  all  about 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  173 

your  good  deeds  up  there  in  Working  Lane.  Maybe  I 
can  be  of  help,  too." 

Laughingly,  she  permitted  him  to  accompany  her.  It 
was  far  from  displeasing  to  her  that  he  should  want  to 
go.  While  it  was  true  that  she  never  had  manifested 
special  interest  in  him,  yet  she  did  not  deny  that  he  had 
some  attraction  for  her.  At  times,  she  wondered  jupt 
how  strong  her  liking  for  him  was. 

Before  she  directed  Gus  to  go  to  the  Lane,  she 
stopped  at  a  grocery  store  to  make  several  purchases  for 
the  Malvey  family  and  old  Mrs.  Grady. 

Tharny,  who  accompanied  her  into  the  store,  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  add  some  more  groceries  to  her  pur- 
chases, but  she  compromised  with  him  by  saying  he 
could  go  with  her  to  a  toy  store  a  little  farther  down  the 
street,  where  she  intended  to  buy  a  few  toys  for  the  Mal- 
vey children,  and  add  an  extra  doll  for  the  smallest  Mal- 
vey girl. 

He  made  a  jolly  lark  of  doing  that,  and  was  right  .in 
thinking  that  his  action  advanced  him  considerably  in 
her  estimation. 

The  little  plain-board  house,  in  which  the  Widow 
Malvey  and  her  children  lived,  stood  at  the  head  of 
Working  Lane,  almost  directly  opposite  Carty's  place. 
Coming  one  day  to  the  Lane  to  inquire  into  the  welfare 
of  a  former  laundress  of  the  Norton  family,  who  had 
married  and  taken  up  her  residence  there,  Mary  Norton 
had  learned,  through  the  gossip  of  the  former  laundress, 
of  the  condition  of  certain  families  in  and  near  Working 
Lane  that  immediately  made  powerful  appeal  to  her 
sympathetic  nature.  She  had  come  away  from  that  visit 
thinking  serious,  analytical  thoughts  with  much  of  thor- 
ough introspection  in  them.  She  accused  herself  of  hav- 
ing been  narrow,  self -centered  and  selfish,  though,  as  a 


174  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

matter  of  fact,  she  had  been  nothing  of  the  kind.  And 
her  visits  to  Working  Lane  families  to  whom  she 
brought  the  sunshine  of  optimism  as  well  as  food,  cloth- 
ing and  opportunities  for  work,  were  to  her  not  mere 
duty,  but  whole-hearted  desire. 

"You  needn't  come  in",  she  told  Tharny  as  he  helped 
her  from  the  auto  in  front  of  the  Malvey  place.  "Just 
give  me  those  bundles  and  wait  for  me  outside,  please. 

Tharny  knew  she  was  sincere,  and  so  he  realized  he 
was  safe  in  persisting  in  wanting  to  accompany  her  into 
the  house.  But  she  smilingly  commanded  him  not  to 
come  and  so,  with  what  he  hoped  she  would  take  for  re- 
gretful resignation,  he  lighted  a  cigarette  and  prepared 
to  wait  for  her.  Shortly  after  she  had  entered,  he  saun- 
tered about  as  if  casually  inspecting  the  surroundings. 
He  eyed  Carty's  place  meditatively,  and  as  if  with  no 
fixed  purpose  in  mind,  tossed  his  half  burnt  cigarette 
away  and  strolled  over  to  the  saloon. 

Inside  the  house,  Mary  encountered  Paddy  Skiff  who 
was  just  leaving. 

"Ah  Mis'  Nortin,  'tis  ye  then?"  he  asked  with  a  glad 
smile.  "I  was  just  after  bringin'  a  few  things  the 
Missus  sent.  'Tis  ye  will  bring  Missus  Malvey  an'  the 
kids  the  real  joy — more  blessings  to  ye." 

"And  it's  mighty  good  of  you  and  Mrs.  Skiff  to  have 
been  so  thoughtful",  she  responded  to  the  highly  pleased 
Paddy. 

"  'Tis  helpin'  others  is,  after  all,  helpin'  ourselves  the 
most,  Miss  Nortin",  he  returned  still  smiling.  Then  he 
bowed  slightly  and  left.  Outside  he  slapped  his  cap  on 
his  wavy  gray  locks  and  breathed  deeply.  "Dom  fine 
gurl!"  he  said  aloud  shaking  his  head  emphatically,  and 
went  down  the  gulch  to  Hotel  Skiff. 

When  Tharny  entered  Carty's,  he  made  as  if  to  in- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  175 

spect  the  cigars  in  the  case  at  the  front  end  of  the  bar, 
but  he  sent  quick,  sharp  glances  around  the  place. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  bar,  Vignon  was  expatiating, 
in  bellowing  tone,  some  of  his  pet  theories.  With  hat 
off,  coarse  hair  all  awry  and  turned-back  shirt  collar 
revealing  his  bullishly  muscular  neck,  he  was  brute  force 
incarnate. 

Carty  came  forward  to  inquire  what  Tharny  wanted, 
but  not  before  the  latter  had  caught  some  of  Vignon's 
utterances. 

Tharny  bought  several  cigars  and  then  asked  Carty 
who  the  speaker  at  the  other  end  of  the  bar  might  be. 

Carty  told  him. 

"Vignon",  said  Tharny  slowly  to  himself.  "Has  a 
peculiar  sound."  Then  to  Carty:  "Take  a  cigar  your- 
self." After  that,  he  asked  Carty  several  pointed  ques- 
tions involving  Vignon,  and  received  the  information  he 
desired  for  Carty  always  was  eager  to  please  generous- 
minded  customers.  Then  Tharny  conversed  casually 
for  a  few  moments  of  other  subjects. 

"This  Vignon  certainly  seems  a  very  unusual  person", 
remarked  Tharny  reverting  to  their  first  subject.  "I'd 
like  to  meet  him.  Would  you  mind  telling  him  so?" 

Vignon  did  not  come  at  once  after  getting  the  mes- 
sage. Seemingly  to  ignore  the  request  at  first,  was  his 
way  of  showing  he  was  not  in  the  least  subservient. 
Then  in  a  moment  or  two  more  he  slowly,  swaggeringly 
made  his  way  to  Tharny. 

The  latter  held  out  his  hand,  and  after  slight  hesita- 
tion, Vignon  accepted  it  for  a  brief  instant. 

"I  understand  your  name  is  Vignon",  Tharny  began. 
"Mine's  Tharny.  I've  heard  of  you",  but  he  did  not  tell 
Vignon  how  recently. 

"Yeh?"  grunted  the  other. 


176  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"You  working  now?" 

Vignon  regarded  Tharny  with  something  of  belliger- 
ent suspicion. 

"What's  the  idea?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  thought  if  you  weren't,  you  might  be  interested 
in  a  proposition  I  could  make  to  you",  replied  Tharny. 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  Vignon,  suspiciously,  but 
not  at  all  belligerently. 

"Have  a  cigar  first",  invited  Tharny  tendering  one 
which  Vignon  took.  "Let's  step  outside  where  we  won't 
be  of  such  interest  to  everybody  in  this  place",  Tharny 
went  on,  looking  around  at  the  other  patrons  who  were 
more  or  less  inclined  to  stare  at  him  and  Vignon. 

Tharny  and  Vignon  had  been  talking  outside  Carty's 
for  several  minutes,  when  Tharny  saw  the  door  of  the 
house  across  the  way  open  and  knew  that  Mary  Norton 
had  finished  her  visit  there. 

"My  office  is  in  the  Monticana  building — third  floor. 
Come  there  at  nine  o'clock  tonight",  Tharny  said  quickly 
to  Vignon.  "Just  knock  at  the  door — I'll  be  there." 

When  Tharny  came  up  to  Mary  Norton  across  the 
roadway,  he  made  what  he  wanted  her  to  take  as  anxious 
inquiry  about  the  Malvey  family. 

And  after  she  had  told  him,  she  remarked : 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  acquainted  in  the  Lane,  Mr. 
Tharny,  but  I  see  you  are." 

"Oh,  that  fellow  I  was  talking  to?"  returned  Tharny 
with  a  laugh.  "His  name  is  Vignon,  and  he's  quite  a 
character." 

"What  a  peculiar  name",  she  said  slowly.  Then  very 
candidly,  "I  thought  him  particularly  villainous  looking." 

Tharny  smiled.  "He's  not  bad — I  assure  you.  He's 
really  very  useful — that  is  to  say,  he  has  it  in  him  to  be 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  177 

useful.  And  now  where  else  do  we  go,  Miss  Angel  of 
Mercy?" 

"To  Mrs.  Grady's  and  one  or  two  other  places  to 
which  you  may  come  along  if  you  have  an  hour  or  so  to 
spare." 

"Most  gladly",  he  assented. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
PADDY  SKIFF 

That  morning,  Bradshaw's  course  lay  in  the  direction 
of  Working  Lane,  and  he  went  there  by  way  of  Klem- 
ner's  shop.  He  did  not  mean  to  stop  there,  but  to  view 
it  in  passing,  but  he  found,  when  he  came  to  the  place, 
that  it  no  longer  was  ornamented  with  a  wooden  boot. 
A  broadly  smiling  young  man  was  conducting  a  fruit 
stand  in  Klemner's  former  shop,  and  he  could  not  give 
any  information  as  to  the  shoemaker's  new  location. 

Bradshaw  noted  that  Working  Lane  presented  little 
change  from  what  he  had  known  it  to  be — perhaps  it 
appeared  a  bit  more  cramped  after  his  life  in  the  moun- 
tains. 

He  encountered  Paddy  Skiff  at  the  door  of  the  board- 
ing house  he  had  known  as  Mrs.  Inez  Harrity's  place, 
Paddy  having  just  returned  down  the  Lane  from  Mrs. 
Malvey's. 

He  looked  keenly  at  Bradshaw,  but  did  not  recog- 
nize him.  Indeed,  Dan  had  drawn  his  hat  brim  down 
more  over  his  eyes  than  customary. 

Bradshaw  stopped  and  Paddy  paused. 

"I  would  like  to  see  Mr.  Patrick  Skiff",  said  Brad- 
shaw formally. 

"Then  keep  yer  eyes  on  me",  replied  Paddy. 

"Oh,  then  I  take  it  that  you  are  Mr.  Skiff",  ventured 
Dan. 


179 


"Ye  take  it  right",  returned  the  other. 

'I  believe  you  are  acquainted  with  one,  Daniel  Brad- 
shaw",  said  Dan. 

Paddy  glanced  hastily  about,  then  beckoned  with  his 
head.  "Come  on  with  me",  he  invited,  and  led  the  way 
into  the  "office",  a  fairly  good-sized  room  with  a  bat- 
tered, newspaper-strewn  desk  in  one  corner,  a  few 
wooden  kitchen  chairs  and  a  door  giving  access  to  the 
long  dining  room,  for  the  "office"  was  more  of  a  lounging 
place  for  the  lodgers  than  anything  like  a  sanctum  for 
the  proprietors.  On  this  occasion,  Paddy  and  his  visitor 
had  the  "office"  to  themselves,  and  Paddy,  after  locking 
both  its  doors,  indicated  a  chair  for  Bradshaw  and  then 
took  a  chair  in  front  of  the  miner  and  close  enough  to 
permit  of  a  low-voiced  conversation. 

Leaning  forward,  Paddy  demanded  brusquely,  "An* 
what  is  there  ye  kin  be  after  tellin'  me  of  Dan  Brad- 
shaw?" He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer.  "Or  is  it 
somethin'  ye  have  come  to  find  out  'bout  him?  If  it's  to 
tell  of  him,  then  welcome.  But  if  it's  to  pry  into  his 
alff airs,  then  to  hell  with  ye !" 

"I  only  want  to  ask  a  question",  said  Bradshaw 
quietly,  with  difficulty  restraining  his  desire  fo  laugh. 
"It  is  important  I  should  know  when  and  how  he  left 
here." 

"An'  it's  importan'  fer  me  to  be  answerin'  no  ques- 
tions concernin'  him  without  I  know  who  asks  'em  an' 
why",  declared  Paddy  Skiff  with  spirit.  "An'  before  ye 
go  one  bit  further,  let  me  tell  ye,  sir,  I  was  an'  am  his 
frien',  an'  anything  ye've  a  mind  to  say  'bout  him  may 
be  used  agin  ye." 

Bradshaw  laughed  and  Paddy  leaped  from  his  chair. 
"  Tis  no  laffin'  matter",  almost  shouted  the  aroused 
Paddy.  Then  more  quietly;  "If  yer  laff,  however,  is  in 


180  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

agreement  with  me,  then  all  right.  If  it's  meanin'  to  be 
at  him — at  Dan  Bradshaw,  then  dom  it,  say  so,  man,  an' 
let's  be  to  it,  fer  ye'll  have  to  lick  me  right  down  to  the 
groun'  before  ye  leave  this  very  place — an*  I'm  after 
thinkin'  there's  still  one  good  fight  left  in  me  yet." 

Bradshaw  took  off  his  hat  and  tossed  it  on  the  desk. 
"Paddy,  you  dear  old  dynamiter,  don't  you  really  know 
me?" 

Then  it  was  that  Paddy  caught  the  familiar  ring  in 
the  miner's  tone  and  he  stood  for  an  instant  as  if  hypno- 
tized, peering  at  Bradshaw's  face. 

Dan  stood  up  and  placed  a  hand  on  either  shoulder  of 
his  friend. 

A  look  of  gladness  swept  over  the  face  of  Paddy  Skiff, 
and  as  he  held  Bradshaw  off  at  arm's  length  to  regard 
him  intently,  he  exclaimed  joyously,  "By  the  bells  of 
Shannon ! — 'tis  me  brave  lad,  Dan  Bradshaw  hisself !" 

And  with  that  the  old  man  threw  his  arms  around  the 
returned  one  and  hugged  him  right  heartily.  "I  can't 
help  it  Dan,  I  got  to  do  it",  he  declared.  Then  he  pushed 
Dan  back  into  his  chair  and  resumed  his  own.  "An'  ain't 
it  jus'  like  ye  to  be  comin'  an'  devilin'  the  ol'  man  with 
jus'  such  nonsense  as — do  I  know  Dan  Bradshaw  an' 
where  is  he,  an'  such  stuff.  Tell  me  all,  Lad.  An'  then 
maybe  as  how  you'd  be  wantin'  to  see  the  Missus."  He 
smiled  more  broadly.  "There's  now  a  Missus  Paddy 
Skiff  as  was  Mrs. — " 

Bradshaw  interrupted,  shaking  a  finger  at  him.  "I 
know  all  about  it,  you  gay  Lothario — Walton  told  me." 
He  reached  out  and  taking  Paddy  Skiff's  hand,  shook  it 
vigorously.  My  congratulations  to  you — a  million  of 
them.  But  I  am  not  so  sure  I  can  congratulate  her. 
Still,  you  may  have  improved  considerably.  Anyhow,  I 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  181 

knew  you  were  a  goner — going  to  picture  shows  and  the 
like." 

And  so,  for  a  brief  interval,  they  indulged  in  happy, 
good-natured  banter. 

"I  got  the  letter  ye  wrote  to  me  months  ago",  Paddy 
informed  Dan,  "an'  I  attended  to  all  ye  asked.  What 
clothes  ye  had  left  are  safe,  an'  yer  drawings  I  put  away 
against  the  time  ye  would  want  thim.  What  money  ye 
left  I  paid  yer  bills  with — the  Missus  refusin'  to  accept 
pay  fer  the  few  days  room  an'  board  ye  owed.  I  would 
be  askin'  ye  to  come  to  Carty's  fer  a  social  glass,  but  I 
think  I  know  yer  wishes  in  the  matter." 

"I  think  you  do",  agreed  Dan.  "No  Carty's  and  no 
social  glasses,  Paddy  Skiff.  Also,  for  the  time  being  and 
for  your  own  information,  Dan  Bradshaw  is  still  under 
cover,  and  D.  Williams  is  on  deck — and  my  keen  appreci- 
ation for  Mrs.  Skiff's  generosity  and  your  kindness." 

"Fergit  yer  appreciation — an'  if  it's  D.  Williams  ye 
want  to  be  callin'  yerself,  then  D.  Williams  or  D-any- 
thing-else  it  is,  with  no  soul  learnin'  it  from  me", 
declared  Paddy  emphatically.  "But  nothin'  on  earth  kin 
make  me  think  of  ye  as  any  but  Dan  Bradshaw  an' 
keepin'  ye  that  way  in  me  heart.  Talk  to  me  as  much  as 
ye  please,  Lad,  fer  the  Missus  is  in  the  kitchen  an' 
there'll  be  no  one  comin'  here  till  the  supper  hour.  Kin 
ye  stay  fer  it?  I  kin  tell  the  Missus  that  we've  special 
comp'ny  an'  ye'll  get  a  better  feed  nor  any  we  got  here 
in  the  ol'  days",  and  he  poked  a  playful  finger  at  Dan. 

But  Bradshaw  expressed  his  regret  at  not  being  able 
to  do  so.  Then  he  detailed  his  idea  of  having  Paddy  and 
his  wife  dispose  of  their  boarding  house,  Paddy  to  go  to 
the  mine  as  foreman,  taking  Jackson  and  several  other 
trustworthy  men  with  him  for  shift  bosses  and  the  like ; 


182  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Mrs.  Paddy  Skiff  to  have  the  valuable  boarding-house 
concession  at  the  mine. 

"It  listens  fine",  said  Paddy  enthusiastically,  "not 
because  of  the  great  chance  ye  so  nobly  offer  me,  Lad,  an' 
the  Missus,  but  because  I  kin  be  where  ye  are.  I'm  not 
surprised  at  yer  makin'  good  an'  becomin'  a  big  minin* 
man — I'd  bin  surprised  if  ye  hadn't.  We've  a  chance  to 
sell  this  place  an'  when  I  tell  the  Missus  of  what  Misther 
D.  Williams  if  after  offerin'  us  she'll  jump  at  the  chance 
fer  the  mountain  air  out  there  would  suit  her  fine. 

"I'll  write  you  a  formal  letter  about  it",  said  Brad- 
shaw,  "so  that  the  Missus  will  see  it  is  bona  fide." 

"What  she'll  see  is  that  it's  dom  fine",  declared  Paddy. 
"I  need  no  writin'  from  ye.  I'm  boss  in  me  own  house, 
Lad.  I  made  up  me  mind  to  that  when  we  got  married, 
only — ",  he  hesitated,  " — only,  of  course,  I  don't  want  to 
be  rough  'bout  it  an'  so  I  ain't  said  much  'bout  it  to  her 
yet.  Ye  mus*  have  a  way  with  wimmin",  Paddy  contin- 
ued judicially,  "to  make  'em  see  things  as  they  should." 

"I  suppose  you  know  all  about  that",  said  Bradshaw 
gravely. 

"That  I  do — an*  what's  better  still,  I'm  learnin'  more 
of  matrimonial  deeplomacy  all  the  time.  When  ye  have 
solved  the  way  of  makin'  a  woman  think  ye  are  follerin' 
her  when  really  ye  are  leadin'  her,  ye  have  solved  a  dom 
lot  of  problim." 

"And  have  you  solved  it?"  asked  Bradshaw  un- 
smilingly. 

"Well",  replied  Paddy  slowly  and  reflectively,  "I'm 
studyin*  the  subject  hard  all  the  time." 

Their  talk  drifted  to  other  days.  They  spoke  of  the 
League,  its  breaking  up  and  what  was  likely  to  follow. 
And  Bradshaw  thanked  Paddy  for  his  efforts  in  trying 
to  trace  him. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  183 

"When  ye  didn'  show  up  at  Carty's  that  night  after 
the  big  fight  that  broke  up  the  League",  said  Paddy,  "me 
an'  Jackson  got  sore  at  ourselves  fer  havin'  left  ye  to 
come  up  there  by  yerself.  We  feared  maybe  ye  run 
afoul  of  Vignon  an'  his  gang,  but  as  we  was  gettin'  un- 
easy 'bout  it,  in  come  Vignon  an'  two  of  his  crew,  Wil- 
kins  an'  Snitch,  an'  they  was  smilin'  free  an'  easy — an' 
frien'ly  too,  so  we  felt  sure  ye  had  not  met  'em." 

Then  Paddy  related  his  subsequent  efforts  to  locate 
Bradshaw. 

"How  did  the  others — the  rest  of  the  boys,  regard  my 
sudden  leaving?"  asked  Bradshaw  with  a  slight  smile. 

Paddy  scratched  his  head.  "Ye  know  how  them 
things  is,  an'  specially  in  a  big  place.  Well — ye  know 
how  it  is  in  most  organization  affairs — The  king  is  dead, 
long  live  the  king !'  Some  thought  ye  might  be  in  one  of 
the  outlayin'  mines  an'  some  thought  ye  might  have  gone 
to  Arizona  or  over  to  the  Coor  de  Lanes.  Ye  know  how 
many  of  the  boys  go  wanderin'  'roun'  that  way." 
"And  what  of  Cronel?"  asked  Bradshaw. 

The  smile  left  Paddy's  face  and  he  crossed  himself  as 
he  spoke.  "May  his  soul  rest  in  peace — ye'll  not  find  him 
on  this  earth." 

"You  don't  mean — "  began  Bradshaw. 

"He's  gone",  Paddy  interrupted  him.  "It  was  this — 
what  do  ye  call  it? — gallapin'  consumption,  the  doctor 
called  it,  got  him.  That  the  man  grieved  hisself  to  death 
is  me  firm  opinion.  That  attack  on  him  at  the  last 
meetin'  of  the  League  was  a  dirty  piece  of  bus'ness  an' 
he  never  got  over  broodin'  'bout  it.  There  was  much  in 
his  ideas  an'  much  in  his  talk  we  could  not  agree  with, 
but  the  man  was  good  at  heart  an'  he  done  no  harm  to  no 
one  except  as  he  might  have  put  some  foolish  notions  in 
the  heads  of  them  what  believed  him — yet,  after  all,  just 


184  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

how  many  of  them  could  understand  exac'ly  what  he  was 
drivin'  at  anyhow?" 

"He  certainly  was  a  good  man  in  many  ways",  agreed 
Bradshaw  slowly.  "A  dreamer  and  impracticable — will- 
ing to  sacrifice  himself  to  his  own  ideas  and  thinking  he 
was  doing  it  for  the  welfare  of  humanity.  He  was 
treated  most  shamefully  at  that  last  League  meeting.  I 
am  sorry  he  is  gone." 

"A  few  of  us  gave  him  decent  burial — he  havin'  no 
relatives",  said  Paddy,  "an*  we  carried  out  his  last  re- 
quest that  what  little  money  he  might  leave  after  funeral 
expenses,  be  given  to  the  orphans'  home." 

Neither  spoke  for  the  space  of  a  few  moments. 

"What's  become  of  Vignon?"  asked  Bradshaw. 

"Bad  cess  to  the  blatherskite!"  exclaimed  Paddy  in- 
dignantly. "He  tried  hard  enough  to  git  the  League 
together  again,  but  most  of  the  boys  had  all  of  it  an' 
him  they  wanted.  They  got  Direc'  Action  with  a  ven- 
geance that  night  ye  bowled  'em  over  like  ninepins  durin' 
the  big  fight  of  the  League",  and  Paddy  gestured  express- 
ively. "Fer  a  time  Vignon  laid  low  an'  then  begin 
shootin'  off  his  mouth  again  at  Carty's.  He  manages  to 
hold  onto  jobs  fer  he  is  a  darin'  miner  sure  enough. 
Sometime  ago  he  cut  out  of  here  an'  I  was  told  as  how 
he'd  bin  up  to  his  ol'  stuff  down  in  Arizona,  but  they 
put  the  rollers  under  him  quick  there  an'  'twas  said  he 
headed  fer  the  Coor  de  Lanes  an'  when  it  got  unpleasant 
fer  Direc'  Actioners  like  him  there,  he  come  back  here 
again.  He's  what  ye  might  call  a  circulatin',  agitatin', 
hell-raisin' — "  Paddy  paused  and  blinked  at  Bradshaw. 
"I  jus'  don't  seem  to  be  as  fluent  as  I  was  in  describin* 
that  feller",  he  said.  "But  I  do  know  he's  a  dom  bad  egg 
with  a  bad  finish  due  him.  He's  here  in  Biitte  again  an* 
fer  the  present  keepin'  his  mouth  shut.  Maybe  he  thinks 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  185 

the  time's  not  ripe  jus*  yet  fer  an'  outbust  by  him  an'  his 
crowd,  an'  so  long  as  they're  allowed  to  run  'roun'  with 
their  Direc'  Action  yappin'  they're  boun'  to  raise  a  fuss 
an'  worse  wherever  they  are." 

"And  what  about  Klemner?"  asked  Bradshaw. 

"Moved  further  from  the  Lane",  replied  Paddy. 
"The  Missus,  who  don't  go  out  much  but  gits  her  infor- 
mation in  matters  of  that  sort  by  means  of  unfailable 
women  wireless,  says  Klemner's  girl  has  got  the  hanker- 
in'  to  get  into  the  movin'  picture  game  like  as  not  to  carry 
a  spear  or  helpin'  now  an'  again  to  form  a  backgroun'  of 
merry  villagers  fer  the  'King  Of  Hip-hoo-roo-ria'  in  'The 
Curse  of  a  Crown',  or  one  of  them  kind  of  productions 
the  Missus  goes  wild  'bout.  The  Missus  says  the  girl  is 
pesterin'  her  father  to  send  her  to  Los  Angeles  so  she 
kin  begin  what  she  calls  her  new  career,  but  so  far  she 
ain't  even  got  to  the  depot." 

"There's  one  more — Crunch",  said  Bradshaw. 

Paddy  smiled.  "He  comes  here  more  than  he  do  to 
see  Misther  Walton — this  bein'  much  closer  to  Carty's. 
The  Missus  keeps  howlin'  we  mus'  stop  feedin'  him,  but 
then  I  notice  she  always  fixes  him  up  a  good  handout 
each  time.  An'  'tis  a  fact  Carty's  good  to  him  too.  He 
lets  Crunch  spend  what  money  he's  got  at  the  bar  an' 
when  Crunch  is  broke,  Carty  slips  him  a  piece  of  change. 
That  beats  tryin'  to  reform  a  feller  an'  lettiii'  him  starve 
at  the  same  time." 

"You've  put  me  right  at  home  once  more,  Paddy", 
said  Bradshaw  with  a  laugh. 

"Sure  ye  would  recognize  the  situation  quickly",  re- 
marked Paddy.  "So  far  as  the  miners  is  concerned  right 
now,  organization  talk  differs.  There's  too  many  dif- 
feren'  ideas  anyhow.  Many  of  the  men  look  at  it  this 
way — Why  should  they  be  after  payin'  a  couple  of  dol- 


186  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

lars  or  so  into  some  new  organization  that  comes  along 
claimin'  to  be  fer  their  benefit,  an'  then  when  that  or- 
ganization busts  up  fer  one  reason  or  enother  or  both, 
'tis  found  the  expenses  has  jus'  about  ate  up  the  ex- 
chequer? Then  there's  some  want  to  go  back  to  the  first 
union  affiliation  in  stronger  numbers.  There's  them  as 
wants  entirely  new  affiliation — an'  so  it  goes.  Maybe 
some  day  they'll  all  join  up,  but  'twill  be  a  real  high 
class,  genuinely  American  organization  they'll  get  in 
with  an'  not  one  that's  run  by  a  few  hell-raisers — either 
that  kind  of  an  organization  or  nothin'.  That's  my  best 
guess.  The  trades  and  other  unions  are  goin'  along  'bout 
the  same  as  ever. 

Bradshaw  again  discussed  with  Paddy  the  latter's 
place  at  the  M.  N.  and  the  boarding-house  proposition 
for  the  "Missus".  Also  there  was  a  definite  understand- 
ing that  nothing  was  to  be  said  of  Dan's  visit  to  Paddy. 

"If  you  can  find  those  other  fellows  who  were  fired 
that  time  with  Jackson — the  time  I  investigated" — and 
Bradshaw  smiled  as  he  spoke — "bring  them  along  with 
Jackson.  They're  good  miners  and  steady,  and  they're 
trustworthy." 

They  stood  up  and  grasped  hands  firmly.  "And  now, 
Paddy  Skiff,  so  long.  I'll  see  you  at  the  M.  N.",  said 
Bradshaw.  "If  you  have  my  drawings  handy,  I'd  like 
them.  Give  Crunch  what  clothes  I  left." 

"Surest  thing  you  know — I  wasn'  goin'  to  let  ye  go 
without  them",  returned  Paddy.  "Wait  jus'  a  minute 
an'  I'll  get  them." 

He  was  back  in  a  few  moments  with  the  papers  he 
had  so  carefully  put  away  for  Dan. 

"If  there  is  anything  you  want  to  know  about  your 
coming  to  the  mine",  said  Dan,  "write  to  me — D.  Wil- 
liams, you  know",  and  Bradshaw  gave  Paddy  his  ad- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  187 

dress.  "I'll  have  that  boarding-house  contract  waiting 
for  you  at  the  mine." 

"I'll  be  there  like  a  duck",  declared  Paddy.  "But  if 
ye  or  D.  Williams  has  any  contracts  waitin'  fer  me  at 
the  mine  or  anywhere  else",  and  there  was  a  twinkle  in 
Paddy's  eyes,  "I'll  have  to  shoot  ye — or  him.  I  want 
no  contracts  from  either  of  ye." 

"I'll  write  you  that  formal  offer  anyhow",  said  Dan, 
picking  up  his  hat,  " — just  for  the  sake  of  the  Missus.  I 
want  her  to  feel  sure  that  everything  is  strictly  on  the 
level.  And  that  boarding-house  is  going  to  be  remodeled 
into  the  best  of  its  kind." 

As  they  came  to  the  outer  door,  an  automobile  was 
proceeding  slowly  down  the  Lane  and  Bradshaw  re- 
garded it  indifferently  until  it  came  closer.  Then  as  he 
noticed  the  girl  in  it,  he  started  slightly  and  with  a  quick 
look,  took  in  the  man  beside  her. 

"Who's  that?"  he  demanded. 

"Miss  Nortin,  of  course",  Paddy  informed  him.  "She 
does  a  world  of  good  in  the  Lane." 

"No,  no — I  mean  the  man  with  her",  Bradshaw  said. 

"A  feller  named  Tharny — some  kind  of  a  minin'  man 
I  understan'.  He  come  up  once  to  look  at  the  Benton 
when  I  was  workin'  there." 

Bradshaw  intently  watched  the  machine  and  its  oc- 
cupants until  a  turn  in  the  Lane  hid  it  from  view. 

"Does  this  Tharny  come  up  here,  too — I  should  say, 
much?"  he  asked  turning  to  Paddy. 

"First  time  I  seen  him  up  here",  replied  the  other. 

"Well,  good-bye,  Paddy",  and  Dan  held  out  his  hand 
for  a  final  handshake.  "I'll  be  looking  for  both  you  and 
the  Missus,  and  I  know  all  that  will  be  needed  to  make 
that  boarding-house  perfection  will  be  the  super- 
vision of  Mrs.  Paddy  Skiff." 


188  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Paddy  laughed  as  he  pressed  Dan's  hand. 

"Ye  sure  are  lookin'  grand,  let  me  tell  ye  that  again", 
he  declared.  He  stood  off  to  admire  Dan.  "Also",  and 
he  smiled  in  his  most  winning  way,  "ye  sure  are  not  the 
hot-head  I  once  knew — there's  a  big  difference  about  ye 
-  >-an'  there's  a  fine  reserve  to  ye  now.  An'  if  yer  not 
Irish,  Lad,  'tis  not  yer  fault,  but  then  some  of  yer  ances- 
tors at  least  mus'  have  come  close  enough  to  the  Imerald 
Isle  to  have  kissed  the  Blarney  Stone !" 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  SCHEMERS 

At  two  minutes  past  nine  o'clock  that  night,  Vignon 
entered  the  Monticana  building  and  took  an  elevator  for 
the  third  floor. 

At  three  minutes  past  nine  o'clock,  Bradshaw  entered 
the  same  building  and  took  another  elevator  also  for  the 
third  floor. 

As  Dan  came  to  the  long  hallway  that  led  from  the 
main  corridor  to  various  mining  offices,  one  of  which 
was  Tharny's,  he  halted  abruptly,  for  he  beheld  Vignon 
in  the  act  of  knocking  at  Tharny's  door.  And,  as  he 
stepped  back  into  the  main  corridor  again,  he  glimpsed 
the  door  opening  disclosing  Tharny,  who  shook  hands 
with  Vignon  as  he  bade  him  enter. 

"Oh  ho,  so  that's  the  lay  of  the  land",  said  Bradshaw 
to  himself.  "Good  thing  I  was  delayed  a  bit  in  finding 
out  where  this  fellow  Tharny  hangs  out.  Morning  will 
do." 

Closing  the  door  after  Vignon  had  entered,  Tharny 
motioned  to  a  chair  and  then  reoccupied  the  office-chair 
behind  his  flat-topped  desk. 

"Smoke?"  he  asked. 

Vignon  nodded. 

Tharny  pulled  open  a  desk  drawer  and  took  out  a 
box  of  good  cigars,  opened  it  and  extended  it  to  Vignon 
who  helped  himself  to  one. 


190  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  know  my  business  or  not", 
remarked  Tharny  as  he  lighted  a  cigar,  Vignon  doing 
likewise  and  lolling  back  in  his  chair.  "But  I  guess  I 
told  you  something  about  my  being  a  mining  man.  I'm 
representing  a  big  syndicate  right  now.  Ever  hear  of 
the  big  gold  strike  made  in  the  Red  Flower  mountains  ?" 

"Yeh — somethin'  about  it",  replied  Vignon. 

"The  crowd  I  represent  is  getting  in  there — that  is  to 
say,  it  proposes  to  do  so",  Tharny  informed  the  other. 
"I'll  come  to  the  point,  Mr.  Vignon" — Vignon  straight- 
ened up  a  bit  at  being  thus  addressed — "and  give  you 
the  outline  of  the  situation.  The  syndicate  I  represent 
has,  through  me,  secured  options  on  claims  riot  far  from 
the  biggest  gold  proposition  up  there — a  property  run 
by  a  fellow  named  D.  Williams.  We — that  is  to  say,  I — 
am  going  to  try  to  prove  that  we  have  apex  rights  in  the 
claims  I  hold  by  option — you  know  enough  about  mining 
to  understand  what  I  mean.  If  I  have  that  apex  right  or 
rights  so  far  as  the  veins  in  the  property  immediately 
adjoining  the  main  Williams  property  is  concerned,  and 
which  adjoining  property  he  also  controls,  then  I  might 
go  on  and  claim  the  same  rights  with  regard  to  his  main 
mine." 

"I  getcha",  put  in  Vignon.  "It's  a  case  of  ousting 
Mr.  D.  Williams  when  things  is  ripe — I  seen  something 
like  that  pulled  before  in  my  mining  experience." 

Vignon  leaned  back,  pulling  at  his  cigar — giving  him- 
self airs.  This,  indeed,  was  the  life,  this  thing  of  mix- 
ing up  in  big  mining  matters  with  the  representative  of 
a  prominent  mining  syndicate. 

"Good — you're  very  astute  Mr.  Vignon",  and  Tharny 
leaned  forward. 

Vignon  frowned  a  little.     Tharny  thought  he  was 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  191 

impressed,  but  Vignon  was  merely  a  bit  puzzled  by  the 
tribute. 

"Mining  litigation  is  always  very  problematical", 
Tharny  went  on,  and  then  asked  crisply,  "What  do  you 
know,  Vignon,  of  labor  matters  in  that  locality?" 

Vignon  studied  a  spot  on  the  floor  at  his  feet  and 
then  suddenly  looked  up  with  a  smirk. 

"I  think  I  gotcha  again",  he  said.  "But  tell  me  some 
more." 

And  Tharny  did. 

For  more  than  an  hour  he  spoke. 

"There's  nothing  at  all  to  do  until  the  spring  season 
opens,"  Tharny  concluded,  "which  is  only  a  matter  of  a 
very  few  months  anyhow.  Meantime,  keep  on  handling 
things  here  for  your  big  league  idea  and  work  around  to 
the  proposition  of  bringing  the  Williams  miners  into  its 
jurisdiction  along  with  other  miners  in  the  state.  If  the 
Williams  bunch  once  is  under  the  league  jurisdiction — 
well,  any  tieup  in  this  camp  will  tie  them  up,  until — well, 
until  things  are  adjusted  here.  That  ought  to  give  Wil- 
liams a  labor  run  for  his  money.  I  think  that  will  be 
the  finishing  touch  needed." 

"Yeh — I  shouldn'  wonder",  agreed  Vignon  affably. 

"You  keep  in  touch  with  me  right  along",  Tharny 
instructed  him,  "and  in  the  spring  you  might  be  able  to 
swing  the  jurisdiction  thing — if  your  league  is  going. 
Anyhow  it's  worth  trying.  Meantime,  on  the  last  of  each 
month  you  call  here  and  I'll  hand  you  a  hundred  dollars." 

"I  getcha",  said  Vignon  and,  reaching  over,  he  took 
another  cigar  which  he  stowed  away  in  his  coat  pocket. 

Later  that  night,  Vignon  sat  at  a  corner  table  at 
Carty's  with  several  persons  congenial  to  him,  including 
Wilkins  and  Snitch,  and  in  his  most  impressive  way,  he 
outlined  a  plan  for  the  reorganization  of  the  League, 


192  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

painting  a  rough,  but  striking  picture  of  state-wide 
jurisdictional  powe'rs. 

He  felt  a  mighty  sense  of  new  importance  and  acted 
the  part  to  such  extent  indeed  that  Carty  was  moved  to 
inquire  of  Wilkins  who  had  stepped  up  to  the  bar  for  a 
match,  "What's  that  fellow  Vignon  been  drinking  to- 
day? He's  all  hopped  up." 

And  that  sense  of  importance  was  with  Vignon  the 
next  morning  so  that  he  gave  himself  up  to  rather  lurid 
fancies.  As  those  ideas  grew  in  his  mind,  he  began  to 
picture  himself  already  a  new  power  in  the  city's  affairs 
and  when  the  mental  visioning  had  been  stimulated  by  a 
few  drinks  of  whiskey,  he  felt  convinced  that  it  was  time 
for  action.  He  sat  down  at  a  table  at  Carty's  to  revel  in 
his  thoughts.  Ah,  he  had  it — what  a  fool  not  to  have 
thought  of  it  before!  It  was  a  fine  idea,  but  if  he  in- 
tended to  be  a  great  power,  he  would  have  to  think  of 
these  things  more  quickly.  Really,  he  was  quite  impa- 
tient with  himself.  If  he  could  call  a  meeting  and  form 
a  new  nucleus  of  a  League,  that  would  be  a  fine  start,  but 
if  he  could  call  such  a  meeting  and  give  it  definite  prom- 
ise of  a  recognized  status,  then  the  League  would  grow 
by  leaps  and  bounds  in  a  marvelously  short  time — and 
he,  Vignon,  would  be  the  recognized  backbone  of  it.  And 
what  better  promise  to  take  to  such  a  meeting  than  that 
some  of  the  big  mining  companies  readily  would  accord 
due  recognition  to  a  well-organized,  powerful  League 
that  could  and  would  maintain  strict  jurisdictional  rights 
over  most  of  the  labor  in  the  city  and  later  in  the  state, 
whether  the  employing  companies  liked  it  or  not?  Why, 
beyond  question,  the  leading  companies  would  be  glad  to 
come  in  on  the  ground  floor,  as  it  were — to  come  in  at 
the  very  start  with  iron-clad  contracts. 

Vignon  leaned  back  and  hooked  his  thumbs  in  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  193 

armholes  of  his  vest,  his  head  a  little  to  one  side  and  his 
facial  expression  his  closest  attempt  at  looking  judicial. 

And  would  he  make  those  contracts  specify  a  very 
high  minimum  wage  scale  regardless  of  copper's  price, 
and  also  a  maximum  working  day  of  six  hours?  Well — 
maybe.  Yet  that  might  be  quite  a  radical  departure  at 
this  time — at  the  start.  No,  by  hell,  he  would  put  those 
stipulations  in  the  contracts  and  that  would  please  his 
immediate  followers,  and  if  he  could  persuade  the  com- 
panies to  believe  that  he  could  bring  about  an  ameliora- 
tion of  the  contracts,  he  also  might  be  able  to  persuade 
them  to  see  how  very,  very  valuable  he  too  was  to  them 
and  so  he  could  whipsaw  the  companies  and  the  League 
and — by  Jumping  Crickets,  it  was  a  fine  idea!  And  he 
smote  the  table  with  heavy,  clinched  fist. 

"Trying  to  bust  up  the  furniture?"  called  out  Carty 
from  back  of  the  bar. 

"This  ain't  furniture — it's  junk",  Vignon  snarled 
back  and  hit  the  table  again. 

"Well,  come  have  a  drink  anyhow",  invited  Carty 
good-naturedly. 

Vignon  accepted.    In  fact  he  imbibed  two  more. 

"Got  important  business  this  afternoon",  he  said  with 
an  impressive  nod  at  Carty.  "Got  to  see  DeWitt 
Norton." 

"Like  fun  you  have",  replied  the  unimpressed  Carty. 

"Go  chase  yourself!"  exclaimed  Vignon  contemptu- 
ously. "I'll  make  all  you  birds  sit  up  and  take  notice." 

Carty  calmly  went  on  wiping  a  beer  glass.  "DeWitt 
Nortin  wouldn't  see  you  with  a  spy-glass",  he  remarked. 

"I'll  be  close  enough  so's  he  can  see  me  with  his  eyes 
half-shut",  boasted  Vignon.  "An'  if  any  of  the  other 
big  comp'ny  men  are  in  our  city,  I  may  see  some  of  them 
too." 


194  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"  'Maybe*  is  a  damn  good  word",  remarked  Carty. 

"Also  got  business  with  my  friend,  Gerald  Tharny", 
Vignon  went  on  loftily.  "I  may  get  the  time  to  drop  in 
on  him,  too,  this  afternoon." 

"By  gravy,  the  man  knows  them   all!"   exclaimed 

Carty  gazing  at  Vignon  with  pretended  amazement. 

***** 

Whatever  the  afternoon  promised  for  Tharny  in  the 
way  of  visitors,  there  was  no  mistaking  that  he  had  one 
that  morning. 

Bradshaw  called  on  him. 

"I  am  D.  Williams",  Dan  said  crisply  as  he  took  the 
chair  opposite  Tharny.  "I  didn't  know  until  yesterday 
that  you  were  in  Butte  just  now  and  expected  to  get  in 
touch  with  you  in  Spokane." 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you",  said  Tharny  suavely,  but 
he  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands,  nor  did  Dan  make  any 
move  to  do  so. 

"I'll  make  my  talk  as  brief  as  I  can  and  to  the  point", 
Dan  announced,  "for  I'm  leaving  Butte  at  noon.  This  is 
my  statement  to  you,  Mr.  Tharny — I  know  all  about  the 
syndicate  you  represent.  I  know  you  have  been  given  a 
lot  of  authority  by  it  to  handle  its  Montana  business, 
though  as  yet  it  hasn't  come  into  this  state  to  any  great 
extent.  In  fact,  you've  somehow  bluffed  those  Spokane 
people  into  the  belief  that  they  must  leave  all  their  Mon- 
tana affairs  strictly  in  your  hands  in  order  to  make  good 
in  this  state." 

Bradshaw  regarded  Tharny  with  unflinching,  steely 
look,  and  the  other  kept  his  eyes  lowered  as  he  toyed  with 
a  penholder. 

"And  now  let  me  tell  you  something  that  I  mean", 
Bradshaw  continued.  "You  can  play  all  the  dirty  game 
you  want,  but  I'll  not  come  across  to  you." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  195 

Tharny  raised  his  head  with  a  jerk. 
"Dirty  game?"  he  repeated.    "What  do  you  mean — 
what  are  you  talking  about?"    He  threw  the  penholder 
back  on  the  desk.    "And  I  don't  understand  your  'come 
across'  allusion." 

"Don't  fool  with  me,  Tharny",  Bradshaw  warned.  "I 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  You  planted  that  engi- 
neering crew  up  there  next  to  one  of  my  outlying  claims 
after  you  had  some  development  work  done.  I  know  the 
whole  scheme,  for  I  went  over  there  and  had  a  talk  with 
the  engineer  in  charge  and  I'll  say  for  him  that  he  is  a 
decent  man.  You're  bluffing  about  sinking  any  big 
money  in  that  ground  to  prove  any  apex  rights.  I  know 
that  territory  from  A  to  Z,  and  your  sending  that  lawyer 
to  me  to  tell  me  that  you  have  good  reason  to  believe  you 
could  develop  apex  rights  in  that  ground  that  would  give 
you  a  fine  footing  for  involved  mining  litigation,  was  all 
bosh." 

"I  didn't  send  him  to  tell  you  that",  said  Tharny. 
"Oh  no,  you  didn't.    He  came  ostensibly  to  propose  a 
resurvey  of  lines,  but  the  information  he  managed  to 
give  me  was  what  I  just  have  told  you.    And  the  whole 
thing  is  bosh." 

"Is  it?"  asked  Tharny  with  a  suave  maliciousness. 
"Yes,  it  is",  Bradshaw  declared  positively.  "But 
that's  not  the  worst  of  it.  The  implication  of  that  mis- 
erable shyster  of  yours  that  perhaps  I  could  effect  a 
settlement  with  you,  nearly  caused  me  to  throw  him  down 
the  mountain  side.  I  would  have  if  I  hadn't  remembered 
that  he  was  only  acting  for  you.  I  wish  you,  Mr.  Tharny, 
had  come  up  there  with  that  kind  of  a  proposition." 

"I  was  too  busy  to  see  you  personally,  Mr.  Williams 
— that  Red  Flower  mountain  business  is  merely  a  side 
issue  with  me." 


196  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Side  issue  nothing.  The  Spokane  syndicate  found  at 
the  time  I  was  getting  my  property  going  right  that  it 
needed  some  good  mine  to  augment  its  Coeur  d'Alene 
holdings  and  tried  to  buy  my  claim.  I  wouldn't  sell.  So 
I  understand  from  mighty  good  authority  that  you  under- 
took to  handle  the  thing  for  the  syndicate — and  your 
scheme  is  to  force  me  to  sell  or  tie  me  up  with  litigation ; 
wear  me  out.  That  game  has  been  played  before.  Also 
I  judge  you  are  either  trying  to  get  yourself  in  more  sol- 
idly with  the  syndicate,  and  don't  care  how  you  do  it, 
or  you  are  desperately  in  need  of  money."  Dan  rose  to 
his  feet.  "Tharny,  you're  a  damned  crook!"  he  ex- 
claimed not  at  all  loudly,  but  very  emphatically. 

Tharny  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  almost  livid. 

"Get  out  of  here — get  out!"  he  commanded. 

"No,  not  get  out",  said  Bradshaw  quietly.  "And 
you'll  never  put  me  out.  I  didn't  expect  to  arrange  any 
details  here.  I  have  another  plan  as  to  that.  But  when 
I  found  you  were  in  Butte,  I  couldn't  overlook  the  treat 
I  had  promised  myself  of  telling  you  a  few  things.  Just 
bear  in  mind  that  I  won't  be  frightened,  coerced  nor 
wearied  into  selling,  and  I'll  fight  to  the  last  ditch  for 
my  rights.  Nor  will  I  pay  a  skunk  like  you  one  cent  of 
tribute  to  switch  the  syndicate's  attention  away  from 
me.  And  never  send  that  pitiful  go-between  to  my  place 
again  or  I'll  send  him  back  to  you  in  a  strawberry  cup." 

"Get  out — I'll  have  you  put  out  of  here",  and  Tharny's 
nervous  and  livid  face  betokened  his  anger  as  he  made 
as  if  to  move  towards  the  door  leading  to  his  general 
office. 

"No  need  to  exert  yourself,  Tharny",  Bradshaw  said 
with  more  than  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  his  tone.  "I  have 
to  go  now  anyway." 

For  many  minutes  after  Bradshaw  had  left,  Tharny 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  197 

sat  hunched  in  his  chair,  angry  and  white  and  muttering 
dire  threats. 

***** 

And  with  the  coming  of  mid-afternoon  came  word, 
via  private  telephone,  to  DeWitt  Norton  from  his  outer 
office  that  one  Mike  Vignon  wanted  to  see  him  person- 
ally. 

"Ask  him  what  his  business  is",  instructed  Norton 
and  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"If  it's  business  I'll  go  at  once",  said  his  sister  who 
was  ensconced  in  a  comfortable  leather  chair  near  her 
brother's  desk.  "I  only  dropped  in  to  say  hello  and 
remind  you  that  we  dine  out  with  Mr.  Tharny  this 
evening." 

"I  don't  think  it's  business,  it — "  and  then  the  bell 
of  his  private  telephone  rang  again. 

It  seemed  the  visitor  had  important  business  pertain- 
ing to  labor  matters  to  transact  with  Mr.  Norton — 
Would  Mr.  Norton  see  him  now  or  set  a  definite  date 
later? 

Mary  was  standing  and  she  whispered  quickly  to  her 
brother,  "I'm  going." 

"Let  him  come  in  now",  said  Norton  to  the  man  at 
the  other  end  of  the  line.  Replacing  the  receiver,  he 
spoke  to  his  sister.  "Mary,  if  you  don't  mind,  please  step 
into  the  other  office  and  I'll  quickly  dispose  of  this  visitor. 
I  want  to  see  you  before  you  go." 

She  did  as  bidden,  seating  herself  in  a  big  arm  chair 
beside  the  open  door  of  the  snug  little  inner  office  that 
Norton  sometimes  used.  She  could  not  be  seen  from  the 
office  now  occupied  by  her  brother,  nor  could  she,  from 
her  place,  see  who  might  enter  it,  but  she  heard  the  door 
open  and  the  visitor  enter. 

She  heard  her  brother  invite  him  to  be  seated,  and 


198  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

then  in  his  concise  business  tone  inquire  what  the  other 
wanted.  She  heard  a  not  quite  distinct  exchange  of  re- 
marks and  then  her  brother's  voice. 

"I  don't  care  to  discuss  the  matter  at  all  with  you, 
Mr.  Vignon." 

Vignon!  She  raised  her  head  quickly.  Where  had 
she  heard  that  name?  Why  did  she  so  immediately  asso- 
ciate it  with  something  disagreeable?  Where — why,  of 
course — the  man  in  front  of  the  saloon  opposite  Mrs. 
Malvey's — the  man  to  whom  Tharny  had  been  talking 
and  whom  she  had  thought  so  particularly  vicious 
looking. 

Again  her  brother's  brisk,  cool  tone  came  to  her. 

"There  are  contracts  in  force  right  now  even  though 
there  is  no  such  organization  as  the  one  you  speak  of 
with  jurisdictional  powers.  Your  proposition  as  to  mak- 
ing contracts  with  a  League  about  to  be  formed,  is  im- 
practical and  utterly  ridiculous.  I'll  always  do  business 
with  any  proper  representation  and  if  a  bona  fide  union 
obtains  jurisdictional  control,  I'll  do  my  business  with  it. 
I  think  that  is  all." 

She  heard  the  shuffle  of  Vignon's  feet  as  he  arose  and 
heard  his  muttering  tone. 

Then  again  her  brother's  voice. 

"I  suppose  the  next  thing  you'll  be  suggesting  is  that 
you  could  fix  things  all  right  between  the  employing  con- 
cerns and  the  League,  but  I'm  not  looking  for  any  fixers. 
That  door  opens  into  the  hallway." 

Some  more  shuffling  of  feet,  the  opening  of  a  door, 
and  again  the  heavy  voice  of  the  visitor. 

Again  she  heard  her  brother's  tone.  "No — that  is 
final." 

The  door  closed  and  Norton  called  out,  "Come  in, 
Sis — the  interview  is  ended." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  199 

He  looked  up  laughingly  at  her  as  she  came  in  and 
stood  by  his  desk. 

"I  do  catch  some  queer  fish  in  the  course  of  the  day's 
work  and  that  one  just  in  here  is  one  of  the  queerest  in 
a  long  time." 

"You've  got  to  promise  me  one  thing,  DeWitt",  she 
said  seriously.  "Won't  you  be  more  careful  about  letting 
every  sort  of  person  in  here  who  wants  to  come  in  ?  Say 
you  promise." 

"Oh  now,  Sis — I  am  able  to — " 

"Say  you  promise." 

"Well — I  promise",  and  he  laughed  and  caught  her 
hand. 

"And  say  you  promise  you  won't  let  that  man  in  here 
any  more",  she  persisted. 

"Now  Sis—" 

"Say  you  promise." 

"Well — all  right,  I  promise.  He's  not  a  charming  vis- 
itor at  that." 

"I  think  he  is  terrible — I  have  a  real  fear  of  him!" 
she  exclaimed  with  a  vigor  that  made  her  brother  laugh 
again. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  UNKINDEST  CUT 

From  the  Monticana  building,  Vignon  betook  himself 
along  the  street  for  several  blocks,  then  turned  into  an 
alleyway,  that  was  a  mere  slit  between  two  tall  buildings. 
This  path  he  traversed  to  its  end  where  was  a  small,  low 
door,  the  back  entrance  to  a  saloon — Italian  Joe's  place. 
Vignon  felt  in  need  of  proper  solace,  but  was  not  inclined 
to  go  to  Carty's  for  it.  He  was  smarting  from  Norton's 
words  and  still  mindful  of  the  surprise  felt  by  him,  at 
the  time,  in  not  being  able  to  bring  himself  to  resent  the 
mine  owner's  sharp  statements,  as  he  knew  he  would 
have  and  often  had  those  of  other  men  who  had  thus 
offended  him.  Vignon  was  not  a  student  of  psychology, 
but  he  guessed  at  a  very  powerful  psychological  fact 
when  he  somehow  realized  it  was  the  cool  courage  and 
positiveness  of  the  other,  and  physically  smaller  man 
that  had  daunted  him.  Norton  in  no  way  had  indicated 
the  slightest  fear  of  him  and  even  as  he  had  wondered 
why,  Vignon  had  found  himself  unable  to  oppose  the 
other's  courage. 

He  threw  a  coin  on  the  bar.  "The  red — Joe",  he  com- 
manded. 

Joe  set  a  whiskey  glass  and  imitation  cut-glass  de- 
canter full  of  evil-looking  red  liquid  on  the  bar,  and  Vig- 
non helped  himself  to  several  burning  drinks. 

"Joe",  he  declared  sneeringly  and  malevolently,  "I'm 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  201 

too  damn  good-natured — that's  the  trouble  with  me.  I 
know  my  strength,  an'  it  makes  me  good-natured.  If  I 
hadn'  been  good-natured  I'd  a  threw  a  guy  out  of  his  own 
office  a  little  while  ago.  I  know  my  strength  an'  it  makes 
me  good-natured.  You  get  me?  I'm  too  damn  good- 
natured." 

He  felt  better.  That  is  to  say,  his  self-esteem  had  re- 
turned, for  there  also  had  come  to  him  the  inspiring  rec- 
ollection that  Tharny,  the  well-known  mining  man,  was 
back  of  him.  Why,  he'd  go  up  and  see  Tharny  right 
now — so  help  him,  he  would!  That  was  the  ticket — see 
Tharny,  and  then  attend  to  one  other  bit  of  business  he 
had  been  neglecting  all  too  long. 

Tharny  did  not  give  Vignon  a  joyous  welcome,  nor 
was  he  moved  to  enthusiasm  by  Vignon's  somewhat 
rambling  talk  and  his  final  suggestion,  which  became 
more  emphatic  all  the  time,  that  he  would  appreciate  a 
bit  of  an  advance  payment  on  the  first  one  hundred  dol- 
lars he  was  to  get. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  any  money  right  now",  said 
Tharny. 

"What  do  ya  mean — not  now?"  demanded  Vignon 
flaring  up. 

Tharny  reached  into  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  ten 
dollar  bill  which  he  tossed  over  to  Vignon  and  then  made 
a  note  of  it  on  his  blotter. 

"You're  a  trump  card — Mr.  Tharny — a  real  trump", 
declared  Vignon  folding  the  bill  closely  and  pushing  it 
down  into  his  pocket.  Then  with  what  he  meant  for 
friendly  jocularity,  "Who  do  you  want  killed  for  this?" 

Tharny  looked  up  sharply. 

"Say,  Vignon,  how  is  that  League  proposition  coming 
along — have  you  started  anything  on  it  yet?"  he  asked. 

Vignon  leered  at  him  and  winked  knowingly. 


202  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Leave  it  to  me,  Bo.  By  spring  your  friend,  D.  Wil- 
liams, will  think  the  League's  agoin'  all  right,  all 
righto." 

Tharny  smashed  his  fist  down  on  his  desk,  all  his 
wrath  rushing  out  pell-mell  and  he  was  then  not  at  all 
the  suave-spoken,  carefully-groomed  looking  man. 

"Damn  Williams — damn,  damn  him — I'd  like  to 
wring  his  miserable  neck.  He's  no  good  and  I'll  show 
him  who  he's  up  against.  I'll  get  him !" 

Then,  as  though  realizing  the  spectacle  he  was  afford- 
ing the  grinning  Vignon,  he  ceased  abruptly. 

"I'm  very  busy  right  now,  Vingon",  he  said,  straight- 
ening his  tie  and  smoothing  back  his  hair.  "Come  in 
again — I  want  to  have  some  more  good  talks  with  you." 

"Oh  I'll  be  here — don't  worry",  promised  Vignon  as 
he  prepared  to  leave.  "I'll  say  one  thing  for  you,  Mr. 
Tharny — I  think  you're  all  right." 

The  visit  to  Tharny  had  been  profitable,  and  it  almost 
banished  from  Vignon's  mind  the  memory  of  the  un- 
pleasantness of  Norton's  cutting  words — and  the  sur- 
prise he  had  experienced  in  finding  himself  unable  to 
resent  Norton's  statements. 

He  hailed  a  street  car  at  the  next  corner  and  rode  for 
several  blocks.  A  walk  of  a  few  blocks  brought  him  to 
a  small  shop  over  the  entrance  of  which  swung  a  wooden 
boot,  while  fastened  above  the  door  was  a  modest  sign 
with  the  words— KLEMNER— SHOEMAKER. 

Vignon  entered  with  a  swagger.  Only  the  cobbler 
was  there  and,  strange  to  say,  he  was  not  industriously 
pegging  away.  He  sat  at  his  accustomed  place,  peering 
through  his  glasses  at  a  letter  in  his  hand  and  so  ab- 
sorbed was  he  that  he  did  not  note  the  new  arrival. 

"Well — how's  tricks,  Klemner?"  asked  Vignon,  after 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  203 

he  had  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  at  the  shoe- 
maker. 

Klemner  slowly  raised  his  head  to  regard  him.  He 
nodded  and  then  resumed  his  study  of  the  letter. 

"Look  here  Klemner",  said  Vignon  a  trifle  belliger- 
ently, "can  that  reading  and  get  me.  I'm  here  to  make 
a  proposition  and  I  want  a  straight  answer." 

Klemner  bestirred  himself  as  if  for  the  first  time 
realizing  Vignon's  presence. 

"Oh  yes — it's  Vignon.    How  do,  Vignon — sit  down." 

Vignon  drew  a  stool  close  to  the  shoemaker  and 
seated  himself.  Then  as  he  spoke,  he  tapped  the  shoe- 
maker on  the  knee. 

"Look  here,  Klemner,  I've  come  into  a  good  thing. 
I'm  in  solid  with  the  big  mining  men  now.  I'm  not 
throwin'  down  any  of  my  own  propositions,  but  I'm  in 
right  both  ways  just  the  same.  I'm  here  to  talk  business 
now.  You  like  me — you  always  acted  right  by  me.  I 
want  to  join  your  family." 

"My  family?"  repeated  the  shoemaker  slowly. 

"That's  it — me  an'  Millie.  I  want  to  be  your  son-in- 
law.  Let  her  quit  stallin'  around  with  that  bird  Chris — 
he's  a  joke." 

Klemner  looked  down  at  the  letter  again. 

"Millie's  gone",  he  said. 

Vignon  straightened  up  in  surprise. 

"Gone?" 

"Yes — she  and  Chris.  It  wasn't  at  all  necessary  that 
way.  It  didn'  have  to  be  that  way."  It  was  as  if  the 
shoemaker  was  talking  to  himself.  "They  could  have 
stayed  right  here." 

"What's  all  this  guff?"  demanded  Vignon  standing  up 
and  leaning  over  the  shoemaker. 

The  other  did  not  look  up. 


204  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"They — Chris  and  Millie",  he  said  slowly,  "they  got 
married  this  morning  and  they've  gone  to  Great  Falls 
where's  he  got  a  good  job — it  says  so  in  the  letter — and 
they  want  me  to  forgive  them  and  go  over  there  to  live 
with  them." 

"What!"  ejaculated  Vignon  starting  back.  "She  an' 
that  fool  went  an'  aloped  on  you — An'  what  you  goin'  to 
do  'bout  it?" 

Klemner  was  peering  down  at  the  letter. 

"I'm  an  old  man",  he  said  slowly.  "I  guess  I'll  go 
over  to  them.  They'll  have  a  nice  little  place.  I  won't 
have  to  work  no  more — it  says  so  in  the  letter — I  can 
have  a  little  garden — it  says  so.  But  it  didn'  have  to  be 
that  way.  They  want  me  though — it  says  so — " 

"Ah,  tell  it  to  Sweeny!"  exclaimed  Vignon  and 
stamped  out  of  the  place,  banging  the  door  behind  him. 
Just  outside  the  door  he  paused  and  leaned  back  against 
the  wall  beside  the  cobwebby  window. 

"Now  ain't  this  a  hell  of  a  world?"  he  demanded  of 
the  Great  Outside. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
CLEARING  THE  SLATE 

A  few  weeks  after  his  seance  with  Tharny,  Bradshaw 
was  in  Spokane  and  he  had  with  him  his  very  clever  at- 
torney and  his  general  manager. 

With  mock  solemnity  he  shook  hands  with  his  two 
companions  following  their  consultation  at  their  hotel, 
remarking,  "Gentlemen — be  with  me  in  thought  and  give 
me  all  the  sustaining  absent  treatment  you  can  think  of 
— if  not  too  busy." 

"Oh  we'll  bank  on  your  coming  through  the  ordeal 
alive",  remarked  the  attorney.  "But  really,  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, if  you  desire  me  to  go  with  you — " 

Dan  waved  the  suggestion  aside. 

"You  may  have  all  the  opportunity  you  want  for 
helping  me  beard  the  lion  in  his  den  later  on — both  of 
you." 

Then  he  left  them  and  his  course  took  him  to  a  big 
office  building  of  which  two  entire  floors  were  devoted 
to  the  business  of  a  great  mining  syndicate,  and  where, 
presently,  he  was  waiting  in  a  reception  room  while  a 
very  matter-of-fact  office  boy  was  taking  his  card  to  an 
inner  sanctum.  For  all  the  apparent  light-heartedness 
with  which  Bradshaw  had  started  on  his  mission  from 
the  hotel,  his  thoughts  were  serious  and  all  his  fighting 
instinct  was  at  the  surface. 

In  due  time,  the  boy  returned  with  the  information 


206  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

that  Dan  was  to  follow  him. 

The  way  led  down  a  private  corridor  and  in  response 
to  the  boy's  knock  on  a  door,  a  hearty  voice  called  out, 
"Come  in." 

Dan  had  seen  some  business  offices  that  he  had 
thought  bordered  on  the  luxurious,  but  never  before  had 
he  entered  one  that  for  unostentatious  elegance  equalled 
this  one.  Its  beautiful  mahogany  furniture  was  spot- 
less. Its  deep  velvet  rug  of  finest  quality  over  a  perfect 
hardwood  floor,  had  not  the  minutest  stain. 

Through  Bradshaw's  mind  flashed  the  thought  that 
verily  this  was  the  finest  lion's  den  on  record.  As  for 
the  lion — he  was  a  robust,  portly,  smooth-shaved  man 
with  cheeks  of  baby  pinkness,  but  with  about  as  keen  a 
pair  of  steel-gray  eyes  as  ever  warmed  into  thorough 
affection,  or  chilled  an  adversary  to  the  very  marrow. 

He  arose,  as  Dan  entered,  and  gave  him  a  little  nod. 
He  was  smiling  slightly  and  he  still  fingered  Dan's  card. 
But  there  was  nothing  at  all  effusive  in  his  greeting  or 
manner. 

"Won't  you  be  seated?"  he  invited  courteously,  and 
Dan  took  a  chair  which  directly  faced  the  other  as  he 
resumed  his  place  in  his  ponderous  swivel-chair  behind 
his  unusually  wide,  flat-topped  desk. 

Bradshaw  wasted  no  time  in  formalities. 

"You're  a  busy  man,  Mr.  Satterton",  he  began  at 
once,  "and  I  appreciate  your  seeing  me  so  quickly.  I 
have  important  business,  too,  calling  me  back  home  as 
quickly  as  I  can  leave  here.  I've  come  to  put  some  fair 
and  square  facts  before  you  as  president  of  the  syndi- 
cate that  has  been  trying  to  run  me  out  of  the  Red 
Flower  gold  district — "and  as  the  other  held  up  a  pro- 
testing hand,  "Yes,  that's  the  straight  of  it — you've  been 
trying  to  do  all  of  that — your  syndicate  has.  And  if  it 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  207 

hasn't,  then  it  doubtless  will  be  interested  in  getting  these 
facts  anyhow." 

"We've  been  proceeding  in  a  thoroughly  businesslike 
way",  the  other  man  said  in  his  velvety  tone  that  some- 
how suggested  plenty  of  iron  determination.  Indeed 
Bradshaw  had  very  quickly  sensed  why  this  man  was 
head  of  a  great  and  powerful  syndicate.  And  though 
Satterton  was  the  concrete  personification  of  the  enemy, 
which  Dan  heretofore  always  had  thought  of  as  "The 
Syndicate",  formless  as  to  body,  soulless  and  yet  fear- 
fully menacing  to  him,  yet  he  did  not  feel  any  personal 
antagonism  against  this  man.  Somehow  he  then  and 
there  conceived  the  idea  also  that  the  other  man  likewise 
respected  him. 

"Well,  businesslike  as  you  might  think  it",  Bradshaw 
returned  steadily,  "I  have  regarded  it  as  nothing  other 
than  the  effort  of  a  powerful  syndicate  to  take  by  any 
means — any  means,  Mr.  Satterton — the  property  of  an 
individual  it  deemed  immeasurably  weaker — meaning 
myself." 

"And  your  purpose  in  coming?"  the  other  man  said, 
very  palpably  suggesting  the  laying  of  all  cards  on  the 
table. 

Bradshaw  leaned  slightly  forward,  resting  his  hand 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  "I  refused  your  offer  to  buy 
me  out",  he  said.  "I  did  not  consider  it  an  equitable 
price.  I  don't  mind  saying  that  it  would  not  have  en- 
abled me  to  liquidate  my  indebtedness  at  that  time.  I 
made  up  my  mind,  and  am  still  of  the  same  mind,  to  fight 
any  and  all  efforts  to  force  me  to  sell  with  the  alterna- 
tive of  very  tedious  and  very  costly  mining  litigation. 
I'll  fight  to  the  last  ditch,  Mr.  Satterton.  If  I  go  down 
in  that  fight — should  you  force  it  on  me,  I'll  go  down  with 
flying  colors — and  I  don't  think  I'll  go.  If  you  mean  to 


208  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

be  as  fair  and  square  with  me  as  you  protest  you  are,  as 
you  wrote  to  me  last  week  you  really  mean  to  be,  then 
you'll  heed  my  request.  You'll  send  for  Mr.  Gerald 
Tharny;  have  him  meet  me  before  yourself  and  your 
board  of  directors,  or  any  other  officials  of  your  syndicate 
you  may  designate.  I  want  to  confront  him  before  you, 
submit  my  proofs  to  you,  let  you  get  the  facts  as  they 
really  are  while  we  both  are  present — and  I  promise  to 
show  him  up." 

"Your  request  is  most  unusual — really  extraordi- 
nary", declared  the  other.  "I  don't  believe  I  ever  heard 
of  a  similar  instance." 

"I  agree  it  is  unusual",  returned  Bradshaw.  "But  I 
take  the  view  that  your  syndicate,  whatever  its  motives 
and  methods  with  regard  to  me,  would  not  want  to 
plunge  into  anything  that  would  be  bootless  for  it.  If 
my  proposition  will  result  in  the  saving  of  much  time, 
aggravation  and  expense  for  your  syndicate,  as  well  as 
to  show  the  justness  of  my  contention,  you  would  con- 
sider it  advisable  to  give  my  idea  due  consideration, 
would  you  not?" 

Satterton  swung  around  in  his  chair  and  seemingly 
forgot  all  about  his  visitor  as  he  gazed  through  a  win- 
dow, meanwhile  reflectively  stroking  his  chin.  All  at 
once  he  swung  back  and  turned  the  keenness  of  his  gaze 
on  Dan. 

"It's  without  precedent  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
When  we  go  into  a  fight,  we  go  into  it  neither  asking  for 
quarter  nor  giving  it.  And  you  ask  us  to  put  one  of  our 
representatives  on  trial  with  you  as  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney." 

"I'm  not  asking  for  quarter,  nor  do  I  propose  being 
a  prosecuting  attorney",  Bradshaw  declared.  "I  want 
you  to  get  the  facts,  and  the  best  way  to  get  them  is  with 


BORN  OF  THE  ,  CRUCIBLE  209 

Tharny  present — and  his  answering  some  questions  I 
would  like  to  ask  him  in  your  presence." 

"I'll  take  the  matter  up  with  my  directors",  an- 
nounced Satterton  after  a  moment's  pause.  "Why  do 
you  want  Tharny  here?" 

"He  is  your  representative  in  Montana  and  you  have 
left  the  handling  of  the  matter  which  concerns  me  en- 
tirely in  his  hands  for  investigation,  indeed  for  much 
action,  and  certainly  you  must  have  been  actuated  in  all 
your  later  moves  against  me  by  reason  of  his  reports  and 
recommendations." 

"Perhaps  so",  admitted  the  other. 

"Well,  Mr.  Satterton,  I'm  not  going  to  express  myself 
here  and  now  as  to  what  I  think  of  Tharny.  I  want  him 
here  to  face  me  and  my  side  of  the  case." 

"What  made  you  think  I — we,  would  give  any  con- 
sideration to  such  a  plan  as  you  have  suggested?"  asked 
Satterton  with  just  the  trace  of  a  smile  and  a  slight  les- 
sening of  the  steely  quality  of  his  eyes. 

"The  belief  that  if  you  had  the  real  spirit  of  fair 
play,  you'd  show  it  this  way",  answered  Bradshaw  can- 
didly, and  the  other  laughed  frankly. 

"Where  are  you  staying?"  he  asked. 

Bradshaw  told  him. 

"I  will  give  you  our  decision  by — "he  looked  at  his 
watch — "say,  five-thirty  this  afternoon." 

"If  such  a  meeting  is  arranged",  Bradshaw  said  as 
he  rose,  "I  would  want  to  bring  my  attorney  and  my  gen- 
tral  manager  with  me." 

Satterton,  who  also  stood  up,  waved  his  hand  indif- 
ferently. "Oh,  that  would  be  for  you  to  say,  Mr.  Wil- 
liams", he  remarked. 

When  Bradshaw  returned  to  the  hotel,  he  mapped 
out  some  work  for  his  manager  in  the  way  of  arranging 


210  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

certain  reports  for  quick  use,  and  then  he  and  his  attor- 
ney took  a  long  walk. 

"I  guess  I  aroused  old  Satterton's  curiosity  more  than 
anything  else",  said  Dan  as  they  strolled  along.  "I  count 
on  the  unexpectedness  of  the  thing  to  carry  my  point  as 
to  the  meeting." 

As  they  walked  back  towards  the  hotel,  Bradshaw 
grew  silent,  though  not  for  a  moment  nervous.  Once  he 
remarked,  "It's  like  waiting  for  a  jury's  verdict — and  it 
really  does  mean  a  lot  to  me.  I  wouldn't  like  long  drawn 
out  litigation.  It's  expensive  and  when  you  come  right 
down  to  bedrock  basis,  you  never  can  anticipate  a  court 
result,  though  I  feel  sure  we'd  have  them  licked  to  a 
standstill  if  it's  a  fight  they  want." 

Promptly  at  five-thirty,  the  telephone  in  Bradshaw's 
room  rang  and  he  was  at  the  instrument  in  an  instant. 
The  conversation  was  brief,  and  then  he  hung  up  the 
receiver  and  turned  to  the  deeply  interested  lawyer  and 
manager. 

"Well,  gentlemen",  he  said  with  a  smile,  "Mr.  Sat- 
terton's private  secretary  begs  to  inform  us  that  Mr. 
Satterton  has  taken  the  matter  up  with  his  directors,  the 
syndicate's  vice  president  and  doubtless  a  few  other  of- 
ficials, and  we  can  come  to  his  office  at  eleven  day  after 
tomorrow  morning  prepared  to  enter  into  a  discussion 
of  the  matter.  Mr.  Gerald  Tharny  will  be  there.  What 

do  you  say  to  our  going  to  a  show  tonight?" 

*         *         *         *         * 

A  spacious  directors'  room  with  customary  business- 
like, long  oaken  table  bordered  with  swivel-chairs — 
President  Satterton  presiding  in  the  officer's  place.  At 
his  right,  the  syndicate's  vice  president — at  his  left, 
Tharny.  Two  directors  occupied  places  at  the  right  of 
the  table — three  directors,  the  syndicate's  treasurer, 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  211 

statistician  and  chief  engineer  at  the  left  side.  Two 
secretaries  were  at  a  little  side  desk. 

It  was  an  impressive  setting  and  certainly  it  looked 
businesslike  to  Bradshaw,  who  had  the  place  at  the  end 
of  the  table  opposite  Satterton,  with  his  lawyer  at  his 
right  and  his  manager  at  his  left,  and  several  leather 
document-cases  on  the  table  before  him. 

"Gentlemen,  no  need  of  going  into  detail  in  explain- 
ing the  purpose  of  this  conference",  Satterton  was  say- 
ing. "We  all  are  thoroughly  conversant  with  its  purpose 
now.  Mr.  Williams,  are  you  ready  to  proceed?" 

Dan  rose. 

"I  am." 

And  proceed  he  did,  speaking  easily,  earnestly,  while 
the  officials  of  the  syndicate  leaned  back  to  regard  him 
and  listen  closely ;  Tharny  with  a  slight  curl  of  the  lip ; 
the  secretaries  at  the  little  side  desk  taking  notes. 

Quickly  he  sketched  the  offer  that  some  months  be- 
fore had  come  to  him  from  the  syndicate  via  Tharny ;  his 
refusal  of  it;  the  appearance  of  an  engineering  crew  on 
property  adjoining  claims  next  to  Dan's  main  property 
and  on  which  claims  he  held  options — of  word  from 
Tharny  as  to  the  syndicate's  claim  to  options  on  the  prop- 
erty adjoining  his  option-controlled  claims;  of  the  alle- 
gation that  the  syndicate  believed  itself  to  have  apex 
rights  which  would  give  them  vein  rights  in  those  claims 
which  Bradshaw  had  optioned ;  of  the  more  than  hint  of 
litigation — and  other  details,  technical,  very  involved  to 
the  layman,  but  perfectly  clear  in  purport  to  all  present. 

"The  thing  is  this,  gentlemen",  Bradshaw  went  on, 
" — I  can't  be  bluffed  that  way.  I  am  free  to  confess  that 
I  believe  your  entire  information  of  the  matter  has  come 
to  you  from  your  Montana  representative,  Mr.  Tharny. 
I  don't  know  what  he  has  reported  to  you  or  to  your 


212  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

chief  engineer,  but  I  do  believe  that  you  have  been  given 
great  cause  to  labor  under  a  misapprehension." 

Tharny  half  rose.    "I — "  he  began. 

"Just  a  moment — let  Mr.  Williams  finish",  interrup- 
ted Satterton. 

"I  am  not  going  to  mince  words",  continued  Brad- 
shaw.  "If  I  had  not  thought  you — the  syndicate,  under 
a  misapprehension,  I  would  not  have  ventured  to  come 
here.  Now  gentlemen,  I  am  no  child  to  be  bully-ragged. 
I  can  go  into  court  and  give  you  the  fight  of  your  lives. 
The  apex  claims  are  all  rot.  Don't  you  suppose  that 
when  I  secured  options  on  the  ground  adjoining  mine,  I 
also  could  have  got  options  on  the  ground  you  optioned 
later?  I  obtained  the  privilege  to  make  a  thorough  ex- 
amination of  that  ground.  My  engineers  informed  me 
that  there  was  nothing  worth  while  following  there. 
Your  engineer  up  there  as  much  as  admitted  it  to  me — 
he  is  thoroughly  honest  as  well  as  capable.  His  reports 
went  to  Mr.  Tharny,  and  what  Mr.  Tharny  reported  to- 
you,  I,  of  course,  have  no  way  of  knowing — definitely.  I 
only  can  suspect." 

"Will  you  permit  a  question?"  interrupted  Satterton. 

"Certainly." 

"What  leads  you  to  the  use  of  the  word  'suspect'  ?" 

Bradshaw  looked  steadily  at  Satterton. 

"A  representative  of  Mr.  Tharny — an  attorney,  I  be- 
lieve he  poses  as — called  on  me,  and  his  tacit  proposition 
was  nothing  short  of  blackmail!" 

Every  official  of  the  syndicate,  Satterton  included,  ex- 
cepting Tharny,  sat  up  straight.  The  two  secretaries  at 
the  little  side  desk,  looked  up  sharply. 

"I  knew  his  syndicate  to  be  so  busied  with  other  big 
projects  that  it  left  the  handling  of  the  entire  matter  in 
Mr.  Tharny's  hands.  When  I  determined  to  come  here 


BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE  213 

for  this — conference,  I  purposely  wanted  him  present.  I 
knew — I  thought  it  would  simplify  matters.  I  could  have 
settled  this  matter  with  Mr.  Tharny  through  his  attor- 
ney, for  a  financial  consideration.  I  gave  that  shyster 
three  minutes  to  get  out  of  my  office.  Now,  recurring  to 
the  litigation  with  which  I  am  threatened — it  does  not 
frighten  me  in  the  least.  I  have  here  all  the  engineer- 
ing reports,  the  certified  copies  of  my  own  option  rights 
as  well  as  the  offer  of  option  rights  on  the  very  ground 
you  claim — or  rather  Mr.  Tharny  claims  to  have  secured 
options." 

"You  mean  to  say  you  have  option  rights  on  the  land 
that  I  got  options  on?"  demanded  Tharny. 

"I  do",  replied  Bradshaw.  "And  from  a  different 
party." 

"So  that  would  bring  that  land  into  dispute  as  to  own- 
ership", commented  Satterton. 

"Exactly",  Dan  informed  him.  "There  would  be 
counter-litigation  on  that  point  too." 

"Why,  you  couldn't  get  a  clear  abstract  to  your  own 
main  property",  Tharny  burst  out.  "There's  no  record 
of  a  transfer  to  you  from  the  original  locator — or  to  any- 
one else." 

"I  would  promise  to  clear  that  point  all  right — if  I 
sold,  or  for  any  other  good  reason",  Bradshaw  said  with 
a  smile. 

Dan's  lawyer  leaned  forward  and  whispered  some- 
thing to  him. 

"I  want  to  say,  that  while  I  still  hold  the  option  from 
the  man  who  doubtless  owns  that  land  on  which  you 
claim  options  from  another  source",  Dan  went  on,  "and 
while  I  believe  the  man  from  whom  I  secured  my  option 
could  establish  priority  of  location,  that,  nevertheless, 
would  require  much  more  litigation  for  you.  Gentlemen, 


214  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

if  you  will  pull  out  of  this  thing  entirely,  I  will,  to  save 
all  further  dispute,  take  over  your  options  on  that  land 
at  a  ten  percent  increase  on  what  you  paid  for  them." 

Tharny  jumped  up. 

"This  is  preposterous,  and  allegations  have  been  made 
here  that — " 

Bradshaw  was  still  standing  and  he  leveled  a  finger 
at  Tharny. 

"I'm  not  through  with  you  yet.  There  are  a  few 
questions  I  want  to  ask  you."  He  looked  at  Satterton. 
"I  have  your  permission  to  ask  Mr.  Tharny  a  few  ques- 
tions?" 

"Yes — go  ahead",  assented  Satterton.  "Ask  direct 
questions,  Mr.  Williams,  but  let  there  be  no  quibbling  or 
merely  controversial  argument." 

"Did  the  engineer  in  charge  of  the  work  on  the  land 
you  say  you  optioned  near  mine,  send  his  reports  to 
you?"  asked  Bradshaw  of  Tharny. 

"He  certainly  did",  was  the  answer. 

"And  no  duplicates  came  to  the  main  office  here?" 

"No.  I  was  quite  capable  of  forwarding  the  reports 
after  I  received  them." 

"That's  all." 

Then  Bradshaw  detailed  his  interview  with  Tharny 
in  the  latter's  office  at  Butte.  Addressing  Tharny 
directly,  he  said : 

"I  know  you  to  have  had  a  call  from  one  of  the  most 
despicable  agitators  in  the  entire  northwestern  mining 
region — an  agitator  who  would  stoop  to  any  low  trick, 
and  while  I  am  aware  that  he  might  call  unsolicitedly  at 
any  man's  office,  yet  I  do  not  put  it  past  you  to  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  conspire  with  him  to  try  to  cause  trouble  on 
my  property  for  your  own  purpose." 

It  was  a  random  shot,  but  at  any  rate  Tharny  flushed 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  215 

and  then  went  pale.  "It's  not  so — not  so",  he  muttered 
defiantly. 

Then  Satterton  took  a  hand  in  the  proceedings. 

Later,  other  officials  of  the  syndicate  did  so.  The 
vice-president  was  a  quiet-spoken  man  and  his  question- 
ing of  Dan,  the  lawyer  and  the  manager,  was  very 
shrewd  and  very  searching. 

Next,  Dan's  attorney  made  an  excellent  statement — 
pointed,  plain,  sincere. 

Finally  Satterton  began  to  draw  the  meeting  to  an 
end. 

"Will  you  leave  your  reports,  your  certified  option 
copies  and  whatever  other  data  you  care  to  have  us  con- 
sider, with  us  for  our  study  ?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly",  replied  Dan  promptly. 

"Would  you,  gentlemen",  and  Satterton  nodded  at 
Dan  and  his  two  companions,  "mind  retiring  to  my 
office?" 

The  three  men  rose. 

An  hour  later,  Satterton  opened  the  door  giving  ac- 
cess from  the  directors'  room  to  his  office,  and  paused  in 
the  doorway. 

"Gentlemen — we  are  not  prepared  to  give  you  our  de- 
cision now.  Will  it  be  agreeable  to  you  to  appear  here 
at  eleven  o'clock  tomorrow  morning?"  Then  by  way  of 
gratuitous  information,  "We  are  consulting  with  Mr. 
Tharny — and  we  wish  to  get  in  touch  with  the  engineer 
who  was  in  charge  of  the  work  for  Mr.  Tharny.  Mr. 
Tharny  says  he  happens  to  be  in  Butte  right  now  and 
we  can  question  him  via  long-distance  telephone." 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  following  morning,  all  the 
interested  parties  were  on  hand  and  in  their  places.  All 
the  reports  Dan  had  submitted,  he  found  neatly  folded 
on  the  table  before  him. 


216  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Satterton  rose,  cleared  his  throat,  fixed  his  eye- 
glasses on  his  nose  and  referred  to  a  page  of  notes  in 
his  hand.  Then  looking  over  his  glasses  at  Bradshaw, 
he  gave  the  syndicate's  findings,  tersely  and  briefly, 
while  Bradshaw's  manager  held  his  breath. 

"We — a — we  will  accept  your  offer",  he  said  and  sat 
down. 

A  smile  broke  over  Dan's  face  and  the  lawyer,  too, 
was  smiling,  while  the  manager  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"Gentlemen,  I  appreciate  your  findings",  Bradshaw 
said.  His  heart  was  singing  in  him.  He  had  won ! — for 
a  victory  it  certainly  had  been. 

As  they  all  stood  up  and  mingled,  Satterton  spoke  to 
Dan. 

"Mr.  Williams,  can  I  see  you  in  my  office?" 

"Certainly",  said  Dan  and  accompanied  the  president 
there. 

Satterton  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  Dan  taking  the 
chair  at  the  side  opposite  the  president.  And  now  Sat- 
terton was  smiling — not  even  a  hint  of  steely  determi- 
nation in  his  eyes. 

"Let's  smoke",  invited  Satterton  producing  a  box  of 
cigars,  passing  it  over  to  Dan  and  helping  himself. 

"Mr.  Williams",  the  older  man  went  on,  "I'm  a  great 
admirer  of  nerve,  and  you're  nervy." 

Dan  smiled  at  the  praise,  and  Satterton  continued. 

"I  don't  mind  letting  you  in  on  a  few  details.  Don't 
run  away  with  the  notion  that  this  syndicate  is  a  phil- 
anthropic institution.  It  isn't.  But  we  are  on  the 
square",  and  he  straightened  his  shoulders.  "When  Mr. 
Tharny  suggested  the  purchase  of  your  property,  that 
appealed  to  us.  Some  of  our  best  Coeur  d'Alene  proper- 
ties were  down,  and  we  needed  a  going  mine  at  once. 
Your  property  looked  like  a  life-saver.  Mr.  Tharny's  plan 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  217 

as  to  buying  it  seemed  to  come  so  pat  that  we  gave  him 
carte  blanche  as  to  acquiring  it.  But  then  soon  after 
that  our  Coeur  d'Alene  properties  were  reopened  full 
blast  and  we  began  getting  into  Alaska  very,  very  deeply. 
We  are  busy  with  some  mighty  big  projects,  Williams." 

"And  so  you  could  afford  to  let  me  escape",  remarked 
Dan  with  a  smile. 

"Well",  said  the  other  slowly,  "I  wouldn't  just  put  it 
that  way.  We  don't  want  anything  through  chicanery, 
I'll  tell  you  that.  Really,  I  think  you  owe  us  your  appre- 
ciation, Williams,  for  gathering  up  those  loose  options 
for  you.  Now  that  you've  got  them  they  may  save  you  a 
lot  of  bother  in  future.  Anyhow,  they  make  your  prop- 
erty practically  litigation-proof  as  to  vein  rights.  You 
see  that,  don't  you  ?" 

"You  remember  I  offered  you  a  ten  percent  increase 
on  them",  remarked  Dan. 

Satterton  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  Then 
he  straightened  up  and  looked  closely  at  Bradshaw. 

"If  we  made  a  proposition  to  you — would  you  con- 
sider coming  in  with  us?"  he  asked. 

"I  surely  thank  you  for  your  implied  expression  of 
confidence",  Bradshaw  replied,  "but  I'd  like  to  keep  on 
working  this  thing  of  my  own  through  along  lines  I've 
mapped  out." 

"Then  all  the  luck  in  the  world  to  you,  young  man", 
said  Satterton  of  the  Syndicate. 

But  there  was  one  thing  Satterton  did  not  tell  Dan. 
The  latter  heard  of  it  later  from  his  lawyer  who  had 
obtained  it  from  inside  sources. 

The  "consulting"  with  Tharny  of  which  Satterton 
had  spoken  the  day  before  meant  as  grilling  an  exami- 
nation for  that  individual  as  it  ever  falls  to  the  lot  of 
an  unworthy  witness  to  receive. 


218  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

At  the  end  of  two  hours  of  cross-examining,  Tharny 
had  been  reduced  to  the  stage  which  might  best  have 
been  described  as  absolutely  wilted. 

Then,  for  some  hours  more,  there  had  been  a  search- 
ing examination  of  Bradshaw's  reports,  followed  by  a 
long-distance  telephonic  talk  with  the  engineer  who  had 
submitted  his  reports  to  Tharny. 

Subsequently,  Satterton  had  requested  that  Tharny 
come  to  his  office  the  following  afternoon. 

Dan  and  his  two  associates  were  on  their  way  back 
to  Montana  when  Tharny  entered  Satterton's  sanctum. 
And  Satterton  was  a  man  all  of  cold  steeliness  then. 

"Gerald",  he  said  with  the  crispness  of  brittle  ice  in 
his  tone,  "your  father  was  my  best  friend.  I  gave  you 
a  splendid  chance.  I'm  through — so  are  you  so  far  as 
this  syndicate  is  concerned.  Here  is  a  check  for  five 
thousand  dollars — and  a  new  man  will  take  over  our 
affairs  in  Montana. 

Tharny  mechanically  folded  the  check  and  placed  it 
in  his  wallet. 

"So  you're  all  through  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"Absolutely." 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  can  get  along",  said  Tharny  impu- 
dently. "There's  money  to  be  made  in  the  promoting 
game — the  suckers  are  not  all  dead."  He  stood  up,  his 
manner  still  impudent.  "And  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
right  now  that  you  never  could  have  beaten  Williams  in 
court.  I  hate  him  all  the  way  through,  and  I'd  have  liked 
to  have  seen  you  ruin  him,  but  he  held  all  the  trumps  this 
time.  I  thought  I  could  run  a  good  bluff  on  him." 

"It  looked  like  a  possible  chance  for  you  to  squeeze  a 
little  plunder  out  of  him,  eh?  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  you 
barked  up  the  wrong  tree",  and  Satterton  looked  con- 
temptuously at  Tharny.  "The  Syndicate  owes  him  a  vote 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  219 

of  thanks  for  showing  you  up.  This  Syndicate  certainly 
objects  to  such  methods  as  yours." 

"I  don't  suppose  the  high  and  mighty  Syndicate  would 
object  to  my  going  where  I  want  to",  said  Tharny  with 
sneering  sarcasm. 

"Gerald",  returned  Satterton  with  subdued  empha- 
sis, "for  all  I  care  you  can  go  to  hades !" 

But  when,  as  he  left  Spokane,  Tharny  took  stock  of 
his  situation  he  was  not  so  complacent.  He  was  heavily 
involved  financially  and  the  five  thousand  dollars  he  had 
received  from  the  Syndicate,  would  not  carry  him  far. 
True,  he  might  venture  more  deeply  into  mining  promo- 
tion, but  it  might  be  precarious  if  followed  along  the 
lines  he  most  favored.  He  narrowed  his  eyes  and 
smiled  craftily  as  another  thought  came  to  banish  his  ap- 
prehension. 

There  was  Mary  Norton. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
IN  SPRINGTIME 

The  following  spring  came  early,  and  when  the  Nor- 
tons,  returning  to  their  home  at  Butte,  had  time  to  look 
about  them,  they  found  ample  evidence  of  a  rapidly  com- 
ing summer. 

"Talk  about  feeling  the  call  of  the  wild",  declared 
Norton  to  his  sister  at  the  breakfast  table  one  morning. 
"If  ever  I  wanted  to  get  out  into  the  hills,  now  is  the 
time.  I  never  knew  the  real  summer  season  to  come  so 
quickly  around  here  as  it  has  this  year." 

"And  where  does  your  Highness  intend  going?" 
asked  his  sister,  with  the  casualness  of  one  devoting 
earnest  consideration  to  half  a  grape-fruit. 

"I  haven't  mapped  out  an  exact  itinerary  as  yet", 
her  brother  replied.  "I  had  rather  intended  to  start 
from  Anaconda  and  go  westward.  I  want  to  see  what's 
doing  up  in  that  region,  and  I  may  go  for  some  distance 
over  the  ranges  there." 

"Quite  an  ambitious  journey",  said  Mary. 

"And  there  is  no  mountain  trip  can  beat  it",  Norton 
rejoined  enthusiastically.  "It  would  be  a  bit  too  rough 
for  you,  Mary,  but  it's  one  that  our  friend,  Walton,  ought 
to  take  with  me.  If  he  would  write  half  of  what  such  a 
trip  would  show  him,  he  would  have  a  splendid  account." 

"Write  it  yourself",  said  his  sister  half-banteringly. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  221 

"Don't  think  I  wouldn't  be  willing  to  tackle  it,  young 
lady",  he  replied. 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  you  would  tackle  most  anything  and 
come  off  the  victor  too",  she  said  with  a  smile  that 
brought  an  answering  one  from  him,  for  to  see  the 
beauty  of  Mary  Norton's  smile  and  not  respond  with  one 
would  be  admission  of  an  insufferable  grouch. 

"No — I'm  not  in  the  writing  line",  he  stated,  taking  a 
cigar  from  his  pocket.  "But  if  I  could  write  I  might  say 
some  interesting  things  about  the  afternoon  view  from  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  Blue  Eyed  Nellie  hill  west  of  Ana- 
conda, with  the  marvelous  Rockies  on  the  south — one  of 
them,  famous  mountain  that  it  is,  like  the  semicircular 
crater  of  a  gigantic  volcano,  the  nearer  side  crumbled 
away  and  the  remaining  edge  tipped  with  snow  the  year 
around;  the  fertile  valley  with  its  winding  stream  and 
little  silvery  lagoons  here  and  there ;  with  the  white  rib- 
bon of  road  along  the  northern  hill-sides  from  Anaconda, 
away  on  the  east,  right  up  and  along  the  foot  of  the  Blue 
Eyed  Nellie  hill  itself.  And  the  view  from  there  at 
night! — Walton  should  see  it.  And  then  the  country 
farther  along!" — he  paused  to  light  his  cigar — "It  all  is 
an  inspiration.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  exactly  how  it  is 
— as  I  have  seen  it." 

"Why,  I  think  you  are  doing  splendidly",  his  sister 
declared.  "If  you  would  write  it  down  just  as  you  have 
seen  it,  you  would  be  writing  a  veritable  prose  poem." 

He  smiled  fondly  at  her. 

"Flatterer!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  what  a  charming 
flatterer." 

"And  you  think  you  will  continue  on  for  a  much 
longer  distance  than  that?"  she  asked. 

"That  is  my  idea",  he  replied.  "One  of  the  mining 
magazines  had  a  very  interesting  article  last  week  about 


222  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

the  M.  N.  Mine  over  on  the  other  slope  of  the  range  out 
that  way,  and  I  want  to  take  a  look  at  it.  I  understand 
that  some  remarkably  good  gold  ore  is  being  mined 
there.  I've  been  informed  that  D.  Williams  who  is  in 
charge  of  the  mine,  has  returned  from  California  and  is 
up  there  now,  and  so  I  think  this  would  be  a  very  good 
time  to  go  over  and  see  him  and  the  property.  There 
might  be  an  opportunity  to  become  interested  over  in 
that  section.  I've  always  had  faith  in  it." 

He  arose  and  his  sister  did  likewise  to  accompany 
him  to  the  vestibule,  where  he  picked  up  and  drew  on 
automobile  gauntlets. 

"Your  journey  may  be  going  to  be  somewhat  rough", 
she  said,  "but  still  I  would  have  invited  myself  to  go 
along  if  it  were  not  that  Margaret  is  due  this  week." 

"That's  a  fact — I  must  admit  I'd  forgotten",  he  re- 
marked. "I  suppose  there  would  be  no  use  extending  an 
invitation  to  Walton  to  go  along  with  me.  Doubtless  he 
knows  she  is  coming,  and  it  would  take  more  than  a 
trip  into  the  hills,  however  delightful,  to  entice  him  away 
from  Butte  at  this  time." 

"I  rather  think  that  is  right",  observed  his  sister. 

"Now  look  here,  young  lady",  said  Norton  placing 
his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looking  down  at  her,  "I 
don't  pretend  to  be  able  to  pry  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
feminine  mind  nor  to  judge  the  secret  theories  of  a 
woman's  heart,  but  I  do  know  that  the  whims  of  woman- 
kind have  raised  the — have  made  earth  a  very  part  of 
the  Inferno  for  many  a  good  man,  and  all  done  so  inno- 
cently, so  inadvertantly  and  also  so  charmingly.  What 
I  am  getting  at  is  that  Margaret  Hanlon — well,  my  judg- 
ment is  that  Walton  is  the  sort  of  man  who  only  has  one 
real  affair  of  the  heart  in  his  life,  and  that  one  truly  is 
enough  to  last  such  a  man  for  his  entire  existence.  I 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  223 

don't  usually  notice  such  things,  but  I  would  have  to  be 
entirely  bereft  of  my  powers  of  observation  not  to  notice 
Walton's  regard  for  Margaret." 

"Oh,  cleverest  and  keenest  of  all  brothers !"  exclaimed 
Mary,  smiling  up  at  him  with  the  sidelong  look  of  a 
charm  which  he,  as  well  as  any  other  man,  quickly  rec- 
ognized. "And  have  you  really  seen  all  that  too?" 

"Do  you  think  it's  right?"  he  asked. 

"And  why  not?" 

"Of  course,  it's  none  of  my  business",  he  said  hastily, 
"but  I  do  like  Walton.  He's  a  real  man  and  if  Margaret 
is  trifling  with  him,  I  think  she — Oh  hang  it,  Mary,  he's 
not  the  kind  of  man  who  ought  to  be  picked  out  for  that 
sort  of  thing." 

Norton  took  his  hat  from  the  rack  and  stood  with  one 
hand  on  the  door  knob. 

"Why,  I'm  sure,  DeWitt,  I  don't  know  that  Margaret 
is  deliberately  trying  to  mislead  him.  I  don't  know  that 
Margaret  thinks  any  more  of  him  than  she  does  of  any 
other  good  friend.  She  is  interested  in  his  career,  but 
that  might  be  in  an  entirely  impersonal  way." 

"Well,  I  may  be  wrong",  rejoined  her  brother,  "but  I 
shouldn't  imagine  that  a  woman  could  show  the  interest 
in  a  man's  career  that  she  seems  to  have  in  Walton's, 
without  really  having  more  than  just  a  Platonic  regard 
for  him,  or  at  any  rate  making  him  think  she  has." 

Then  he  kissed  her  and  left. 

Mary  returned  to  the  breakfast  table  and  seated 
there,  rested  her  elbow  on  the  table,  her  chin  in  her 
cupped  hand,  and  gazed  abstractedly  ahead  of  her. 
Finally,  as  she  rang  for  the  maid,  she  remarked  to  her- 
self: 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

*        *         *         *         * 

Bradshaw,   returning  from  a  joyous   sojourn   with 


224  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Uncle  Sim  and  Aunt  Ruth  in  California,  the  happier 
since  he  was  able  to  leave  them  in  far  better  circum- 
stances than  they  ever  before  had  enjoyed,  stopped  over 
in  Butte  to  see  Walton,  and  arranged  to  be  on  his  way 
to  his  mine  the  following  morning. 

"Had  the  time  of  my  life",  he  told  the  newspaperman- 
"Talk  about  the  prodigal  son  returning  home — what  I 
wrote  you  about  the  reception  I  got  didn't  half  tell  it. 
And,  I  certainly  enjoyed  to  the  very  limit  the  veranda  in 
the  evening  time  and  the  silvery  moonlight  and  the  roses 
and  all  the  other  features  that  help  to  make  the  place  so 
delightful.  I  couldn't  get  the  Aunt  and  Uncle  to  move 
out  of  their  cottage  to  a  larger  and  more  pretentious  one, 
but  finally  Aunt  Ruth  consented  to  my  hiring  a  maid  for 
her,  though  the  day  I  did  that,  Aunt  Ruth  fussed  around 
declaring  that,  in  consequence,  she  wouldn't  have  a  thing 
to  keep  her  busy  in  future.  Yet  that  evening  on  the 
veranda,  when  the  dear  old  man  was  pottering  around 
in  the  garden,  she  put  her  arm  around  my  neck  with  that 
rare  and  sweet  affection  with  which  she  had  won  my  boy- 
hood's heart.  She  drew  my  head  down  until  my  cheek 
was  close  beside  hers  and — I  felt  unworthy  and  insigni- 
ficant and  if  ever  the  thought  came  to  me  that  all  the 
strivings  and  attainments  of  man  are  unimportant  and 
unlovely  compared  to  the  love  of  a  good  woman,  it  did 
then.  Dear  Aunt  Ruth  never  had  chick  of  her  own,  but 
she's  the  through  and  through  mother,  with  mother 
knowledge  and  love  and  understanding.  She  had  me  for 
years  and  I  know  I  was  enough  to  take  the  place  of  a 
dozen  children — in  causing  her  concern  and  work,  I 
mean.  Then,  on  another  day,  I  went  with  Uncle  Sim  up 
to  the  graves  on  the  hill-side  where  my  grandfather,  the 
sturdy  pioneer  whose  adventures  I  lived  in  my  boy 
dreams  and  playings,  and  where  my  grandmother  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  225 

the  father  and  mother  I  never  knew,  are  sleeping.  I 
wanted  to  arrange  for  some  adornment  of  those  hal- 
lowed couches,  but  I  saw  that  Uncle  Sim's  ideas  about 
it  were  right.  He  said  no  ornamentation  could  begin  to 
equal  the  noble  trees  guarding  those  last  resting  places, 
and  nothing  could  take  the  place  of  the  flowers  growing 
over  and  around  that  sacred  spot,  as  if  protecting  the 
sleepers  with  a  gentle  covering.  Granite  would  shut 
them  away  too  much,  as  it  were,  from  the  flowers,  the 
trees,  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  blue  sky.  We  ar- 
ranged for  proper  monuments  and  the  care  of  the  graves 
which  Uncle  Sim  supervises  so  conscientiously. 

At  Walton's  request,  Bradshaw  told  him  of  various 
other  details  of  his  visit,  and  he  pleased  the  newspaper- 
man by  telling  him  of  the  regard  the  good  Uncle  and 
Aunt  had  for  him,  too. 

"They've  taken  you  right  into  the  family",  said  Dan. 
Then  he  spoke  in  a  more  serious  tone.  "I've  come  back, 
John,  determined  to  push  on  to  greater,  many  times 
greater  things.  I  am  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  mine 
and  go  on  with  my  work  there."  He  laughed.  "I'll  ad- 
mit I  have  a  boyish  desire  to  enjoy  the  new  bungalow 
there.  There  is  something  connected  with  it  that  I 
wanted  to  wait  until  now  to  tell  you  about.  It  has  a 
feature  entirely  for  you — a  writing  room,  a  study  all 
your  own." 

"For  me?"  asked  Walton  delighted. 

"You  bet!"  exclaimed  Bradshaw  heartily.  "You  can 
come  up  there  and  write  your  head  off.  The  place  is  all 
electric  lighted — you  know  we  use  electric  power  all 
through  the  mine  now.  The  bungalow  has  every  possible 
convenience — all  I've  been  telling  you  of  it  can't  do  jus- 
tice to  the  subject,  though  I  know  it  will  have  surprises 
for  me,  too,  for  Paddy  Skiff  and  his  'Missus'  and  my 


226  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

artistic  little  Japanese,  Nip,  were  superintending  the  fin- 
ishing touches  and  the  installation  of  the  fixtures  and 
furniture  I  had  ordered,  while  I  was  in  California.  The 
bungalow  is  not  far  from  the  old  cabin.  You  remember 
that  old  cabin,  don't  you  John?" 

"Well  rather",  declared  the  newspaperman.  "That 
early  winter  visit  I  had  up  there  with  you  was  really  an 
enjoyable  experience." 

"When  can  you  get  away  to  come  up  there  again?" 
asked  Bradshaw. 

"Soon,  I  hope,  though,  as  usual,  this  is  a  busy  season 
for  me",  replied  Walton. 

"Tip  me  the  word  any  time  and  the  place  is  yours", 
declared  the  miner.  "My  good  and  faithful  retainer, 
Nip,  hasn't  half  enough  to  do  as  it  is.  So  hurry  along." 

"What  is  a  man  with  anarchistic  principles  buried 
deep  in  him  doing  with  an  artistic  or  any  other  kind  of  a 
retainer?"  queried  the  writer.  "This  is  getting  to  be  a 
funny  world." 

Walton  liked  to  joke  with  his  friend  because,  to  his 
own  delight,  Bradshaw's  responses  were  keenly  in  kind. 
They  understood  each  other  thoroughly. 

"Of  course,  what  you  say  of  there  being  anarchy  in 
me  is  gross  slander",  retorted  Bradshaw.  "Yet  after  all, 
my  captious  friend,  the  best  way  to  reform  a  radical, 
perhaps,  might  be  to  give  him  luxuries." 

Walton  laughed. 

"That's  a  radicalism  worthy  of  my  friend,  Bradshaw 
— beg  pardon,  Williams",  he  said. 

"You  won't  have  to  beg  pardon  on  that  score  much 
longer",  Dan  informed  him.  "Soon  I  shall  be  getting 
back  to  the  use  of  the  Bradshaw  part  of  my  name,  be- 
cause it  is  necessary.  Thus  far  I  have  kept  scrupulously 
out  of  newspapers  so  as  not  to  become  advertised,  and 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  227 

my  chief  office  man  has  made  the  contracts,  while  Paddy 
Skiff  has  supervised  most  of  the  hiring  of  men,  but  my 
interests  are  spreading,  and  I  guess  I'll  have  to  subdue 
the  Williams  portion  of  the  title  to  its  initial  status,  and 
let  Daniel  Bradshaw  blossom  out  into  the  sunlight  once 
more." 

"Whenever  that  is  done,  then  welcome  to  our  city, 
Dan  Bradshaw!"  exclaimed  Walton. 

"By  the  way,  John",  went  on  the  miner.  "I  want  to 
leave  a  bit  more  money  here  for  you  to  use  in  fixing  up 
Crunch  when  you  get  a  chance." 

Walton  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 

"I've  not  only  fixed  him  up,  dressed  him  up  and 
pointed  out  the  course  of  righteousness  to  him  on  my 
own  account  a  dozen  times,  but  by  reason  of  your  gener- 
osity as  well.  However,  I'll  be  glad  to  try  it  again." 

He  regarded  Bradshaw  with  the  drooping  of  his  eye- 
lids that  gave  him  a  quizzical  look,  characteristic  of  his 
semi- joking  moods. 

"Did  you  ever  try  figuring  out  the  pathway  of  a 
whirlwind?"  he  asked. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  M.  N. 

Proceeding  through  the  picturesque  valleys  and 
over  the  always  interesting  mountain  lands  west  of  Ana- 
conda, DeWitt  Norton  and  the  three  men  with  him  made 
steady  enough  progress,  though  pausing  at  each  impor- 
tant district.  Riding  horses  specially  adapted  for  such 
touring,  and  with  two  pack  horses  laden  with  complete 
camp  equipment,  they  enjoyed  every  moment  "of  their 
outing.  The  men  with  Norton  were  from  his  own  or- 
ganization and  as  loyal  to  him  for  their  liking  of  the  man 
as  because  of  the  positions  they  had  in  his  employ.  One 
was  from  his  general  office  and  two  from  his  mining 
force.  They  wanted  no  cook  or  camp  tenders,  for  these 
men  had  been  on  outing  trips  many  times  before.  They 
knew  how  to  make  camp  in  expert  fashion  and  they 
knew  camp  culinary  art.  Norton,  himself,  took  his  turn 
at  cooking  with  all  the  relish  of  the  man  who  knows 
camp  life  and  enjoys  every  feature  of  it.  When  the 
others  told  him  his  flapjacks  were  good,  he  seemed  as 
well  pleased  as  if  he  just  had  been  informed  that  a 
promising  new  ore  lead  had  been  found  in  one  of  his 
mining  properties.  That  was  the  kind  of  a  man  he  was 
— it  was  a  good  index  to  his  character. 

There  are  such  men  in  the  West  today,  even  though 
many  of  the  mannerisms  and  democracies  of  Pioneer 
days  are  memories  rather  than  facts  now.  Yet  the  vir- 


BORN  OF  THE  .CRUCIBLE  229 

ility  and  the  ways  of  the  Pioneers  have  always  been  too 
important  a  portion  of  the  fabric  of  the  West  ever  to 
be  anything  less  than  a  vital  part  of  it.  There  always 
will  be  the  Western  man,  and  he  has  a  versatility  with 
nothing  of  artfulness  about  it.  He  is  at  home  roughing 
it  in  the  hills — he  lies  down  in  peace  and  comfort  beside 
his  campfire  after  a  day's  hard  riding.  He  is  miner  and 
woodsman  and  reader  of  the  language  of  the  trail.  And 
he  revels  in  things  of  culture.  He  knows  and  under- 
stands the  very  best  of  paintings  and  other  works  of  art. 
He  makes  an  interesting  study  and  not  a  habit  of  liter- 
ature. He  studies  and  understands  the  messages  of  far 
distant  countries  he  may  visit.  He  is  as  much  at  ease 
trying  to  master  the  intricacies  of  a  Buddhist  temple  as 
he  is  on  the  peak  of  a  Rocky  mountain  range.  He  has 
just  as  much  sureness  and  is  equally  at  home  in  a  fash- 
ionable eastern  drawing  room  as  in  the  depths  of  a  west- 
ern mine.  The  music  of  the  wind  through  the  pines  and 
of  grand  opera  alike  are  known  to  and  understood  by 
him.  He  is  the  true,  adaptable,  red-blooded  American. 
Where  he  comes  from  there  is  no  provincialism.  Often 
the  man  from  the  East,  the  man  from  the  South,  the 
man  from  the  Middle-west  can  be  told  on  the  instant. 
Perhaps  so  can  the  man  from  the  West,  but  not  by  reason 
of  any  mannerisms  of  speech,  of  action  or  viewpoint,  but 
by  that  intangible  yet  emphatic  strength,  eye-to-eye 
look,  directness,  good-natured  firmness — like  a  velvet- 
covered  rock. 

The  Norton  party  rambled  over  hills  and  moun- 
tains, and  saw  entrancing  views  in  morning,  afternoon 
and  at  evening.  They  stood  amazed  at  the  marvelous 
sunsets  that  turned  skyline  over  the  mountains  and  high 
heavens  into  amazing  color  combinations.  They  boated 
on  little  lakes  set  like  water  jems  among  regal  moun- 


230  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

tains.  They  fished  in  willow-bordered  streams.  They 
rode  by  moonlight  along  mountain  highways  that  led 
under  trees,  over  hillocks  and  beside  steep  grades,  with 
the  stars  so  agleam  as,  seemingly,  to  cover  the  world 
about  them  with  an  iridescent  star-dust.  Their 
errant  fancies  then  could  have  full  play.  Every  tree- 
arched  stretch  of  road,  with  moonlight  wavering  through 
the  branches,  might  be  a  carefully  prepared  highway 
straight  to  looming,  battlemented  castle  that  in  daylight 
was  a  high  and  grim  cliff.  And  when  they  rode  in  moon- 
light near  a  lake  high  up  in  the  mountain  woodland 
country,  there  came  to  them  a  warmed  breath  of  zephyr 
bearing  a  tang  of  the  water  so  that  they  seemed  near- 
ing  the  shore  of  a  land  of  enchantments  with  all  the 
peoples  of  romance  busied  in  romantic  careers  about 
them — and  the  gaining  of  the  very  next  park-like  rise 
promising  to  disclose  to  them  a  wide-reaching  sea  of 
gently  rolling  silver. 

And  from  all  available  places  en  route,  Norton  tele- 
phoned to  his  sister  at  Butte  telling  of  the  party's 
progress. 

So  at  length  they  came  to  that  slope  of  mountain 
range  down  which  they  were  to  take  their  way  to  the 
M.  N.  mine.  Even  before  they  reached  it,  they  had  a 
splendid  view  of  it  from  the  summit.  Casual  inspection 
at  that  distance  showed  its  completeness  of  equipment 
to  the  extent  which  its  development  warranted.  There 
was  a  trimness,  a  compactness  about  its  surface  struc- 
tures, an  efficient-appearing,  methodical  arrangement  of 
its  powerfully  built  steel  gallows  frame  and  hoisting 
plant,  ore  bins  and  mill,  as  well  as  other  surface  details, 
that  could  not  do  otherwise  than  please  so  well  versed  a 
mining-man  as  DeWitt  Norton. 

The  mine  boarding-house,  flanked  by  two  rows  of 


BORN  OF  THE  -CRUCIBLE  231 

small,  neat  frame  houses,  stood  among  the  trees  on  a 
more  level  shoulder  of  mountain-side  like  a  miniature 
hamlet  in  a  most  pleasing  setting  of  woodland.  And,  in 
truth,  outside  the  confines  of  the  mine  yard,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  care  had  been  taken  not  to  disturb  too  much  of 
the  mountain  and  forest  attractiveness  that  had  been 
there  before  the  hidden  ore  treasure  had  been  uncovered, 
excepting,  of  course,  where  clearings  had  been  made  for 
new  workings,  where  roadways  had  been  cut  through 
and  trestles  built  for  aerial  tramways. 

As  Norton  and  his  men  wound  down  the  pathways 
among  the  trees,  he  commented  on  the  scene  that  had 
been  disclosed  to  them. 

"Whoever  planned  it  all  out  knew  his  business",  he 
declared.  "The  mine  yard  arrangement  is  fine.  There 
is  no  chance  for  lost  motion  there.  The  main  plant  and 
the  ore  bins  and  the  timber-framing  mill  and  the  big 
mine  dump  are  in  just  the  right  locations." 

As  they  approached  nearer  the  mine,  the  usual  evi- 
dences of  mining  activity  so  well  known  to  Norton  and 
the  others  with  him,  came  to  them  like  a  friendly  wel- 
coming voice.  They  dismounted  at  the  small  building, 
where  a  sign  over  the  door  read:  "Office — M.  N.  Mine." 

"I  suppose  that  M.  N.  stands  for  'Montana  Notion' 
or  something  like  that",  remarked  one  of  Norton's  men. 

"Or  perhaps,  'My  Notion' ",  said  Norton. 

The  young  man  in  charge  of  the  office  informed  them 
that  D.  Williams  was  out  inspecting  work  on  a  new  claim 
he  had  acquired  nearby,  but  even  then  was  expected  back. 
And  as  they  waited,  Norton  put  in  a  long-distance  call 
for  his  sister.  In  fact,  they  had  not  long  to  wait  before 
a  close-bearded,  well-built,  corduroy-suited,  blue-shirted 
and  booted  man,  with  stiff -brimmed  hat  of  cowboy  style 
tilted  a  bit  down  over  his  eyes,  arrived  and  the  office 


232  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

man  in  charge  told  Norton,  in  an  aside,  that  D.  Williams 
had  come. 

Norton  immediately  went  forward. 

"Mr.  Williams?"  he  asked. 

"Yes",  said  the  new  arrival. 

"I  am  DeWitt  Norton  of  Butte",  Norton  informed 
him  as  they  shook  hands. 

"I  knew  that",  the  other  said  with  a  smile;  "I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you  here." 

Then  Norton  introduced  his  three  companions  to  Dan 
who,  in  turn,  courteously  presented  his  visitors  to  his 
office  force. 

"And  now  you  and  your  friends",  he  said  addressing 
Norton,  "must  come  up  to  the  bungalow  as  my  guests.  I 
insist  on  your  making  it  your  headquarters." 

Though  Norton  protested  that  he  and  his  party  had 
ample  camping  equipment  and  did  not  want  to  incon- 
venience their  host,  desiring  from  him  only  the  privilege 
of  a  location  where  they  could  pitch  their  camp,  Brad- 
shaw  would  not  take  that  as  an  answer,  but  quietly  and 
firmly  insisted  on  their  coming  with  him.  Mounting 
their  horses,  and  with  Bradshaw  leading  the  way  on  his, 
they  proceeded  along  a  wide  and  well  made  roadway  that 
wound  in  and  out  among  the  thickly  set  trees.  When 
they  had  arrived  out  of  sight  and  almost  out  of  sound  of 
the  mine  workings,  they  suddenly  emerged  into  a  widely 
cleared  place  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  Bradshaw's 
bungalow,  an  ample  dwelling  with  wide-sweeping  roof 
planes  and  extensive,  vine-shaded  veranda  from  which 
the  view  was  wonderful.  On  the  side  nearest  them  they 
could  see  the  broad,  huge  stone  chimney  of  the  fireplace. 
The  clearing  in  front  of  the  bungalow  was  more  in  the 
nature  of  a  well  kept  lawn  and  there  were  carefully 
tended  flower  beds.  At  the  rear  of  the  house  were  rows 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  233 

of  a  vegetable  garden  in  full  culture,  and  beyond  that  a 
poultry  yard.  Within  the  fringe  of  trees  at  the  farther 
side  stood  a  big,  log  stable  and  several  sheds. 

"A  dandy  place",  declared  Norton  enthusiastically  as 
they  paused  to  survey  the  scene. 

"And  complete  as  it  could  be  made",  said  Bradshaw 
with  a  smile.  "It's  really  new  to  me,  too,  for  it  was  just 
being  completed  and  otherwise  being  made  ready  for  the 
furnishings  I  had  ordered  for  it  when  I  left  for  Cali- 
fornia a  few  weeks  ago.  But  my  foreman,  Paddy  Skiff, 
and  his  good  wife,  who  conducts  the  boarding  house  at 
the  mine,  gave  it  kind  attention  and,  with  Nip,  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  the  place,  arranged  the  fixtures  and  fur- 
niture and  had  the  garden  fixed  up  and  attended  to 
various  other  details  so  that  I  found  the  place  just  about 
this  way  when  I  returned.  Nip  really  did  well  for  I  did 
not  have  to  rearrange  much  of  the  furnishings  to  suit 
my  own  taste.  My  original  cabin  is  over  among  the 
trees  there",  and  he  pointed  to  one  side.  "I  am  preserv- 
ing that  as  a  memento.  I  had  the  stable  and  sheds  put 
up  some  time  ago  because,  though  now  the  roadway  to 
town  is  good  and  I  am  planning  on  having  a  garage  put 
up  and  an  automobile  installed,  I  have  to  use  horses  for 
going  up  and  down  the  mountain  roads  and  trails  that 
would  be  too  dangerous  for  machines." 

They  were  continuing  on  their  way  to  the  front  of 
the  house,  when  around  a  corner  of  it  came  dashing  an 
Airedale  frantic  with  joy  at  the  return  of  its  master. 
Also  there  strolled  into  view,  stopping  now  and  then  to 
munch  grass,  a  small,  gray  burro. 

"There",  said  Bradshaw  pointing  to  the  burro,  "conies 
the  most  privileged  pensioner  on  the  place.  That  is  Don 
Quixote  who  came  with  me  on  my  first  prospecting  trip 
into  these  hills.  All  he  has  to  do  now  is  eat  and  sleep 


234  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

and  he  even  has  the  right  to  walk  all  over  the  lawn,  much 
to  Nip's  disgust." 

When  they  reached  the  front  steps,  a  man  came  run- 
ning from  the  stable  to  take  the  horses,  while  on  the  top 
step  stood  a  bowing,  smiling  little  Japanese  in  immacu- 
late white  duck  suit. 

"If  there  is  anything  you  want  and  don't  see,  ask 
Nip",  said  Bradshaw  waving  a  hand  at  Nip,  who  grinned 
and  bowed  the  more. 

The  visitors  sighed  with  contentment  the  moment 
they  entered  the  bungalow. 

A  wide  doorway  opened  from  the  bench-provided 
veranda  directly  into  the  living  room  that  extended  en- 
tirely across  the  front  of  the  house  and  was  lighted  by 
big,  double  windows.  Rugs  covered  the  room's  hardwood 
floor  and  there  were  big,  easy  chairs  and  settees  of 
leather  and  wicker.  The  big  library  table  in  the  center 
was  strewn  with  magazines  and  held  smoker's  articles. 
Much  of  the  right  end  was  taken  up  by  the  fireplace  of 
roughly  hewn  stone,  while  at  the  opposite  end  stood  a 
billiard  table.  A  pianola-piano  and  its  record  cabinet 
were  against  the  wall  opposite  the  front  door  and  be- 
tween the  archway  that  opened  into  the  dining  room  and 
a  door  that  gave  access  to  a  hallway.  A  chandelier  in 
the  form  of  wide-spreading  antlers,  with  each  prong  tip 
an  incandescent  light  bulb,  was  pendent  from  the  center 
of  the  beamed  ceiling,  while  the  several  wall  brackets 
each  with  its  electric  bulbs,  were  also  cunningly  con- 
trived small  antlers. 

When  his  guests  had  rested  and  been  regaled  with 
the  refreshments  Nip  deftly  produced  and  served,  Brad- 
shaw showed  them  about  the  place.  They  fell  ready  vic- 
tims to  its  charms. 

After  supper  there  came  an  hour  of  billiards,  during 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  235 

which  Bradshaw  received  a  telephonic  report  from  Fore- 
man Paddy  Skiff  who  had  come  up  out  of  the  mine  and 
was  at  the  office,  and  with  him  Bradshaw  arranged  for 
a  visit  underground  for  his  guests  and  himself  the  next 
morning. 

There  then  came  a  response  to  the  long-distance  call 
Norton  had  put  in  and  Bradshaw  called  him  to  the  tel- 
ephone. 

"This  is  DeWitt  Norton  talking",  Norton  told  Cen- 
tral. "Kindly  switch  me  on  the  Monticana  private  line." 

In  the  interval  of  waiting  for  his  sister  to  speak,  he 
remarked  laughingly  to  the  others: 

"Imagine  this  kind  of  reporting  home  in  the  days  of 
the  Pioneers." 

Before  he  retired  that  night,  Norton  wrote  a  letter 
to  his  sister  and  placed  it  in  the  mail  bag  in  the  living 
room  to  be  taken  to  town  next  day  and  posted. 

And  thus  he  told  her,  after  detailing  the  delights  and 
some  of  the  experiences  of  his  journey : 

I 

D.  Williams  received  us  here  at  the  M.  N.  with  every 
possible  courtesy.  We  are  now  quartered  at  his  remark- 
able bungalow — remarkable  for  one  at  a  mine  out  in  the 
mountains.  We  came  prepared  to  rough  it  to  the  extent 
of  sleeping  under  canvas  while  here  and  instead  we  are 
in  a  most  modern  hunting-lodge  sort  of  bungalow  with  a 
living-room  that  would  win  your  heart.  There  are  other 
rooms  in  keeping  with  it — a  gem  of  a  dining  room,  a  fine 
kitchen  and  pantries,  light,  airy  bedrooms,  and  Williams' 
private  study,  in  which  I  am  writing  now,  that  is  a  dream. 
It  is  like  a  small  library  and  den  combined.  He  also  has 
had  a  special  study  fitted  up  in  most  convenient  way  for 
the  use  of  a  friend  who  is  a  writer  and  who  is  to  have  ex- 
clusive use  of  that  room  whenever  he  comes  here.  Lucky 


236  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

friend!  Everything  about  the  place  is  complete  right 
down  to  the  cement-lined  cellar  where  there  is  an  excel- 
lent heating  system  and  splendidly  stocked  store  rooms 
and  other  desirable  features.  So  instead  of  roughing  it 
in  tents,  here  we  are  enjoying  life  most  comfortably  in  a 
modern,  electric-lighted  dwelling. 

Norton  even  went  into  detail  in  describing  the  fur- 
nishings and  chandeliers  of  the  living  room. 
Then  he  went  on: 

The  view  from  the  veranda  is  soul  delighting,  espec- 
ially for  one  who  has  real  understanding  of  western 
mountain  scenery  and  sunsets. 

Mr.  Williams  indeed  is  a  splendid  fellow  to  meet.  A 
big,  vigorous  chap,  very  quiet  spoken — I  should  say,  re- 
served in  his  way — he  at  once  gives  the  impression  of 
being  very  much  a  real  man. 

Somehow,  most  peculiarly,  he  gives  me  the  impres- 
sion of  a  former  acquaintanceship — that  is  to  say,  I 
somehow  vaguely  seem  to  have  seen  or  spoken  to  him 
before  or  to  someone  somewhat  like  him,  though  I  can't 
for  the  life  of  me  think  when  or  where. 

What  I  have  seen  of  the  mine  looks  mighty  good, 
though  an  underground  inspection  will  be  necessary  to 
show  me  what  it  is  really  like.  Williams  tells  me  that 
before  the  end  of  another  year  he  will  have  three  more 
shafts  in  operation  on  adjacent  properties.  Then  good- 
by  to  much  of  the  remaining  woodland  and  mountain 
scenery  around  here.  Williams  says  that  he  always  will 
insist  on  the  preservation  of  his  original  cabin  and  the 
trees  that  surround  it  and  his  new  bungalow.  He  also 
says  that  the  freedom  of  the  mountain-side  always  is  to 
be  had  by  Don  Quixote,  the  burro  that  carried  his  equip- 


BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE  237 

ment  on  his  first  prospecting  tour — that  is,  the  Don  is  to 
have  it  as  long  as  said  Don  lasts.  The  stumbling  of  this 
little  burro  on  the  trail  is  generally  accredited  with  hav- 
ing uncovered  the  signs  which  led  to  the  finding  of  the 
ore  of  the  M.  N.,  which  initials  I  think  stand  for  Mon- 
tana something,  though  Williams  has  not  yet  told  me 
what. 

When  Norton,  his  men  and  Bradshaw  stepped  off  the 
cage  of  the  M.  N.,  at  noon  next  day,  they  had,  with  Paddy 
Skiff  as  cicerone,  viewed  much  of  the  underground  work- 
ings and  the  Butte  men  if  they  said  nothing,  at  least 
formed  the  opinion  that  the  M.  N.  was  a  splendid  prop- 
erty and  was  developing  into  a  truly  great  mine.  They 
saw  that  the  workings,  carried  along  in  real  workman- 
ship manner,  not  only  had  developed  strong  leads  from 
which  ore  was  being  taken,  but  also  had  blocked  out  a 
big  ore  reserve. 

"With  depth",  said  Bradshaw  to  Norton,  "we  will  be 
able  to  increase  our  tonnage  materially  and  so  our  work- 
ing force  will  have  to  be  considerably  larger.  That  will 
be  gratifying  to  me  in  that  it  will  enable  us  to  give  em- 
ployment to  more  men." 

When  they  had  changed  from  their  "digging  clothes" 
to  their  other  apparel,  the  party  inspected  the  boarding- 
house  and  viewed  the  neat  and  comfortable  little  houses 
near  it. 

"This  is  the  town",  Bradshaw  informed  the  visitors, 
"and  its  name  is  Skiffville  in  honor  of  our  worthy  fore- 
man." 

The  afternoon  was  devoted  to  a  general  inspection  of 
the  locality,  including  new  prospects  and  the  like,  and 
then  back  to  the  bungalow  went  the  party  for  what  Nor- 
ton aptly  said  were  "all  the  comforts  of  home." 


238  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

That  evening,  while  Norton's  three  companions  en- 
tertained themselves  with  billiards  and  the  pianola,  Nor- 
ton and  Bradshaw  sat  out  on  the  veranda  and  watched 
the  last  of  the  sinking  sun's  rays,  the  shadows  steal  over 
the  mountain  land  before  them,  and  the  stars  come  out. 
They  smoked  not  merely  for  personal  gratification,  but 
also  in  furtherance  of  friendliness — a  way  men  have 
when  smoking  together. 

"If  it  weren't  for  all  this  wealth  of  scenery  around 
the  place",  Norton  remarked  as  they  were  talking  of 
what  they  had  viewed  that  day,  "I  would  say  the  M.  N. 
indeed  was  right  in  the  heart  of  the  Butte  district.  The 
ship-shape  look  of  the  mine — that's  not  just  a  mere  com- 
pliment, Mr.  Williams — certainly  is  like  that  of  the  Butte 
mines.  Your  style  of  mining — in  fact,  the  entire  method 
you  use  here  is  reminiscent  of  the  Butte  way,  and  that, 
indeed,  is  a  good  system." 

He  looked  at  the  other  man. 

"Have  you  ever  had  much  chance  to  inspect  any  of 
the  Butte  mines?" 

Bradshaw  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigar. 

"Yes — I  have  seen  several  of  them",  he  replied. 

"Of  course  you  understand",  went  on  Norton,  "that 
there  always  is  a  standing  invitation  for  you  to  inspect 
the  Mont  or  any  of  our  properties,  and  if  you  ever  come 
to  Butte  without  letting  me  know  of  it  I'll  resent  it — in- 
deed so." 

"I  shall  be  glad  sometime  to  avail  myself  of  your  kind 
offer",  said  Bradshaw,  with  just  a  suggestion  of  a  smile. 

"If  I  do  say  it",  remarked  Norton,  "the  Mont  is  a  re- 
markable mine — one  of  the  best  of  its  kind." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you",  said  the  other. 

"Then  you  have  seen  it?" 

"I  know  of  it.     Also  I  know  of  your  employment 


BORN  OF  THE  .CRUCIBLE  239 

methods,  Mr.  Norton,  and  permit  me  to  say  that  I  heart- 
ily admire  them.  I  realize  that  employers  cannot  always 
know  of  every  small  detail  connected  with  even  that 
vital  proposition  of  affording  employment,  especially  as 
regards  big  properties,  but  your  way  of  at  least  trying 
to  have  the  right  men  look  after  the  employing  and  along 
your  ideas  is  pleasing.  I  have  tried  to  be  as  fair." 

"Mr.  Williams",  said  Norton,  "your  candid  compli- 
ment is  very  gratifying  to  me.  Running  a  big  mine  with 
consideration  only  for  its  producing  phase  is  not  all  there 
is  to  it  by  any  manner-  of  means,  as  you  too  know.  I 
consider  the  matter  of  employment  a  most  important 
feature." 

"I  entirely  agree  with  you  and  admire  you  for  your 
view  of  the  matter",  said  the  other.  "A  man  who  can 
give  employment  ought  to  be  delighted  to  do  so  and,  if 
that  is  the  sort  of  man  he  is,  he  gives  it  in  the  right 
way." 

"Your  ideas  are  interesting",  said  Norton.  "Please 
go  on." 

His  host  did  so,  speaking  in  a  low,  even  tone. 

"We  all  can  have  theories  on  this  big  subject  of  em- 
ployment, but  sometimes  they  do  not  work  out  when  put 
to  the  test.  The  chief  obstacle  in  the  way  of  carrying 
out  equitable  and  just  employment  ideas  often  is  caused 
by  the  problems  of  opposition  which  some  of  the  em- 
ployes themselves  present.  I  have  found  that  out.  Gen- 
erally speaking,  however,  there  is  a  way  of  affording 
employment  by  those  who  can  give  it  that  makes  for  the 
betterment  of  all  conditions.  Now  let  us  consider  the 
M.  N.  in  an  impersonal  way.  Here  is  a  mine  discovered 
by  a  man  through  his  own  efforts.  By  reason  of  it,  he 
builds  up  an  industry  that  employs  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  men.  In  finding  this  mine  he  did  not  deprive  any 


other  man  of  anything.  It  is  really  that  much  more  of  a 
benefit  to  the  world.  It  is  his  property,  yet  he  feels  he 
owes  a  duty  to  humanity  to  which,  after  all,  the  benefits 
placed  in  and  on  this  world  potentially  belong.  But  the 
reward  of  his  finding  the  mine  and  starting  a  new  in- 
dustry is  the  ownership  of  the  property,  and  properly  so. 
The  fulfillment  of  his  obligation  to  humanity's  equity  in 
it  certainly  is  not  in  turning  it  over  to  some  sort  of 
political  organization  which  says  its  mission  and  pur- 
pose are  to  take  over  all  the  possessions  of  the  world, 
doubtless  because  that  would  be  the  easy  way  to  achieve 
success,  but  is  in  the  quality  of  the  employment  he  gives. 
The  proper  sort  of  employment  is  not  oppressive,  not  a 
hindrance,  nor  does  it  deprive  any  man  of  his  right  to 
continue  on  his  own  way  if  he  sees  fit.  Since  it  is  a  fact 
that  the  opening  of  this  mine  deprived  no  one  of  any- 
thing, and  its  discovery  did  benefit  many  by  affording 
new  and  more  employment,  then  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
manner  in  which  its  employment  is  given  cannot  irk  any- 
one and  should  not  arouse  the  slightest  opposition." 

"And  that  way  is?" 

"You  would  care  to  hear  it?" 

"I  certainly  would." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  bore  you  with  my  ideas." 
"Please  go  on." 

"Then",  said  Bradshaw,  "I'll  admit  that  my  method 
is  much  like  yours.  Industry  and  Employment  are  not, 
as  some  might  think,  eleemosynary  institutions.  Nor 
should  they  be  down-grinding  ones  either.  The  employ- 
ers who  know  that  when  they  give  their  employes  the 
best  opportunities  and  treatment  the  latter  usually  will 
make  good  progress  and  do  their  best  work  have  arrived 
at  a  very  happy  conclusion.  That  is  not  necessarily  a 
coldly  economic  way  to  look  at  it  since  the  employe", 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  241 

while  making  better  returns  also,  is  inspired  to  work  on- 
ward and  upward.  The  members  of  those  cults,  which 
fight  work,  attack  that  theory,  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  fighting  that  uncompromising  law  of  Nature,  Work, 
is  their  chief  business.  If  they  would  put  in  as  much 
time  and  effort  working  as  they  do  opposing  work,  they 
would  be  of  far  more  benefit  to  the  world  and  would  be 
vastly  more  content.  .  .  I  pay  my  men  good  wages. 
They  are  encouraged  to  save,  and  of  course  I'll  admit 
that  their  location  out  here  helps  them  to  do  that.  I  do 
all  I  can  to  look  afte'r  their  material  welfare.  The  men 
have  a  hospital  association  which  does  not  charge  an  in- 
itiation fee,  but  taxes  each  member  a  dollar  a  month.  I 
maintain  an  entire  ward  in  a  hospital  in  town  for  the 
association.  The  dollar  which  each  member  pays  to  the 
association  insures  him  or  the  members  of  his  family, 
if  he  has  one  here,  free  medical  treatment  in  that  ward, 
the  association  monthly  dues  going  to  pay  the  associa- 
tion doctor,  whom  I  nominated  and  the  members  elected. 
The  boarding-house  rates  are  exceedingly  moderate  and 
the  men  who  have  families  and  use  the  houses,  pay  just 
enough  rent  to  return  a  fair  rate  of  interest  on  the  cost 
of  building  the  houses  and  the  expenditure  in  keeping 
them  in  first  class  repair.  The  men,  by  their  own  votes, 
chose  the  sliding  wage  scale  system  with  a  specified  min- 
imum; the  wage  scale  here  being  the  same  and  depend- 
ing on  the  Butte  wage  scale  as  long  as  the  sliding  scale 
system  prevails  there.  The  decision  of  the  men  in  that 
regard  has  become  a  fixed  rule  of  the  working  system 
here,  and  so  no  contract  is  needed  to  insure  it.  I  watch 
my  men  and  try  to  advance  those  who  show  the  ability 
to  warrant  it.  At  my  request,  the  men  have  elected  a 
grievance  committee,  which  has  the  right  to  decide  the 
merit  of  any  grievance  sent  to  it  by  any  employe,  and  if 


242  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

it  deems  the  complaint  thus  made  to  be  unfair,  it  so 
notifies  the  employe  in  question.  If  the  committee 
thinks  the  grievance  fair,  it  notifies  me  of  it,  and  we 
meet  in  what  we  call  the  council  room  in  the  boarding- 
house  and  discuss  it.  If,  on  my  part,  I  have  a  grievance 
I  submit  it  to  the  committee  and  we  discuss  it.  The 
committee  thus,  as  it  were,  has  a  sort  of  supervisory 
control  of  grievances,  is  strictly  on  its  honor  and  elimi- 
nates the  chance  of  any  injustice  manifesting  itself — and 
when  you  put  men  on  their  honor  you,  at  least,  tempt  to 
the  surface  the  best  qualities  in  them.  The  committee, 
thus  far,  has  only  notified  me  of  two  grievances  and  I 
have  notified  it  of  one — mine  being  against  the  attempt 
at  agitation  in  the  mine  by  a  certain  miner  who  was 
warned  by  the  committee  to  desist  and  who  was  fired  by 
me  when  he  refused  to  behave  himself.  The  men  have 
frowned  on  all  attempts  to  form  a  union  here.  They  like 
my  method  and,  besides,  they  do  not  want  to  pay  union 
dues,  strike  benefits  or  be  bothered  by  agitators  who 
sometimes  creep  into  such  organizations  in  the  guise  of 
being  good  union  organizers.  If  the  men  here  ever  want 
to  form  a  union  I  will  not  oppose  it,  just  so  it  is  a  bona 
fide  union.  I  won't  stand  for  an  agitator  round  the  place", 
Bradshaw  went  on  and  his  words  held  almost  a  snap  in 
them.  "I'd  close  this  property  tight  as  a  drum  before  I'd 
submit  to  the  dictates  of  any  agitator  or  agitators — and  I 
think  I  can  tell  when  a  man's  really  sincere  or  just  a 
disturber." 

Then  he  resumed  his  even  tone. 

"Like  you,  Mr.  Norton,  I  do  not  ask  any  man  who 
works  for  me  what  his  religion  is,  his  politics  or  what 
his  personal  views  might  be.  All  I  contract  for  are  his 
good  services.  I  don't  pamper  anyone  around  here  in 
idleness — that  would  be  doing  any  good  man  an  in  jus- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  243 

tice.  It  would  be  as  bad  as  over-working  him.  Fortu- 
nately, in  this  western  country,  there  is  a  dearth  of 
down-grinding  employment.  I  think  the  employer  who 
is  equitable  in  every  respect  with  regard  to  his  employes 
does  a  real  good  for  humanity's  cause,  which  is  not  the 
case  with  the  employer  sometimes  to  be  found  in  east- 
ern factories  and  the  like,  who  grinds  his  employes  down 
in  every  way  and  then  splurges  before  the  public  with  a 
big  gift  to  some  charity.  Men  want  justice  and  not  char- 
ity though,  of  course,  we  know  there  indeed  are  some 
charities  such  as  homes  for  destitute  girls,  for  orphans 
and  the  helpless  aged  that  should  be  helped  to  the  very 
limit." 

"And  are  your  theories  working  out  to  mutual  satis- 
faction here?"  asked  Norton. 

"So  far— yes." 

"I  indeed  am  deeply  interested  in  what  you  have  said. 
I,  too,  have  tried  to  solve  problems  of  that  sort  satisfac- 
torily— I'm  trying  right  along",  said  Norton. 

"Even  in  my  limited  experience",  Bradshaw  contin- 
ued, "I  have  found  that  the  problems  are  many  and  com- 
plex. There  are  those  who  are  resentful  of  any  and 
everything.  They  have  no  fight  with  anyone  or  any  sys- 
tem but  just  resent  the  fact  that  they  have  to  work.  You 
see  that  illustrated  in  a  small  way  sometimes  by  atten- 
dants who  treat  customers  crustily  as  if  they  felt  it  an 
injustice  to  have  to  work — and  I  do  not  mean  those  made 
testy  by  unfair  employment  methods.  It's  proper 
enough,  naturally,  for  a  person  who  is  ambitious  to  want 
to  advance.  In  fact,  it's  the  right  idea,  but  imagining 
that  work  is  something  to  fight  against  is  not  ambition.  I 
have  another  plan  for  helping  men  employed  here.  Any 
one  of  them  who  has  the  ambition  to  go  out  on  a  legiti- 
mate prospecting  trip,  knows  what  he  is  doing  and  has 


244  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

some  meritorious  locality  in  view,  I  grub-stake." 

"Not  a  bad  idea",  said  Norton. 

"In  your  Mont  mine,  Mr.  Norton,  you  have  mighty 
good  safety  appliances  and  conveniences  for  the  men.  I, 
too,  have  gone  in  for  that  to  the  limit",  Bradshaw  in- 
formed his  visitor.  "Just  as  you  have,  we,  too,  have  our 
'Safety  First'  propaganda  and  'Safety  First'  teams  and 
rescue  workers  as  well  as  the  latest  methods  of  mine 
safety  equipment.  I  think  I  have  about  perfected  a  new 
safety  mine  cage  clutch  that  will  help." 

"Man, — if  you  have  done  that,  then  you  have  accom- 
plished something  great !"  exclaimed  Norton  starting  up. 
"That  is  something  in  which  I,  and  I  think  I  can  say  all 
mining  men,  are  deeply  concerned.  Have  you  a  model  of 
it?  Can  it  be  seen?" 

"Come  in  and  let  me  show  you  the  plans",  invited 
Bradshaw  rising,  while  Norton  did  likewise  and  followed 
the  other  into  Bradshaw's  study,  where  the  latter  took  a 
set  of  plans  from  his  desk. 

"I  have  applied  for  my  patent  and  expect  it  most  any 
time  now",  Bradshaw  said.  "Paddy  Skiff  has  rigged  up 
a  working  model  of  it  in  the  mine  yard.  It  is  just  a 
make-believe  shaft  which  is  nothing  more  than  a  three- 
sided  affair  of  scaffolding,  extending  up  from  the  ground 
and  outlining  in  width  and  breadth  the  dimensions  of  a 
shaft,  surmounted  by  a  gallows  frame,  and  hanging  in 
it  is  a  mine  cage  equipped  with  my  safety  clutch.  When 
the  cage  is  dropped  from  the  top  or  from  anywhere  along 
in  the  improvised  shaft,  an  idea  can  be  had  of  how  the 
safety  clutch  works." 

"That  is  what  I  want  to  see  first  thing  tomorrow", 
declared  Norton  enthusiastically,  as  he  began  examining 
the  plans.  "What  gave  you  the  idea  to  make  such  an 
invention?" 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  245 

"A  cage  dropping  accident",  was  the  reply. 
"Were  you  in  it?"  asked  Norton. 
"No",  answered  the  other  man,  "but  I  experienced 
quite  a  fall  about  that  time." 


CHAPTER  XXV 
"SACRED  PRECINCTS" 

On  his  return  home,  DeWitt  Norton  had  much  to  re- 
count to  his  sister  and  Margaret  Hanlon  regarding  his 
journey  into  the  mountains  and  his  visit  at  the  M.  N. 
mine. 

His  description  of  the  bungalow  at  the  M.  N.  and  the 
various  details  of  the  property  and  the  locality  in  gen- 
eral given  to  his  sister,  Margaret  and  Walton,  one  cheer- 
ful evening  as  they  all  sat  enjoying  the  comfort  of  the 
Norton  veranda,  held  his  listeners'  close  attention. 

"A  remarkable  place",  he  was  saying,  "and  indicat- 
ive of  the  man,  D.  Williams,  who  runs  the  mine.  He  is 
a  type  of  American  it  does  your  heart  good  to  meet.  He 
has  emphatic  views  on  methods  of  employment" — Wal- 
ton, under  cover  of  the  shadow  about  him,  smiled  to  him- 
self at  these  words — "and  he  talks  most  entertainingly, 
I  might  say  convincingly." 

"Another  thing",  said  Mary  Norton,  "is  that  I  like 
men  who  care  for  horses  and  dogs.  To  me  that  is  an 
indication  of  a  disposition  that  is  trustworthy." 

Norton  spoke  in  bantering  tone  to  his  sister. 

"I'm  almost  sorry  now,  Mary,  that  Williams  is  com- 
ing here  in  a  couple  of  weeks  or  so,  because  if  any  sus^ 
ceptible  young  lady  sees  him  and  talks  to — well,  do  not 
blame  me  for  consequences." 

"That  does  not  alarm  me",  she  replied  in  a  way  suit- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  247 

ed  to  his  own.  "You,  of  all  men,  DeWitt  Norton,  should 
know  that  the  word  'susceptible'  is  not  in  my  vocabu- 
lary." 

"Perhaps  there,  but  not  often  used",  he  teased  her. 
"Well,  then  Margaret" — turning  to  the  other  girl — "how 
about  you?" 

"My  vocabulary  has  the  same  deficiency",  she  an- 
swered in  her  cool,  well-bred  way. 

"Your  trip  was  wonderful",  remarked  Walton, 
directing  the  talk  back  to  its  former  channel.  "Why 
Montanans  leave  home  to  see  mountain  scenery  is  a 
mystery  to  me  when  there  is  a  world  of  the  best  of  it 
almost  in  their  own  back-yards." 

"Why,  there  is  no  mystery  about  that",  said  Norton. 
"The  scenery  of  Switzerland,  for  instance,  has  become 
far  better  known  to  many  Montanans  than  that  wonder- 
ful mountain  country  over  which  I  have  traveled,  largely 
through  the  belief  that  if  our  own  scenery  at  home  is 
good,  that  a  long  ways  off  must  be  vastly  superior.  Mon- 
tana is  marvelously  picturesque  and  fascinating  from  end 
to  end,  and  especially  so  in  its  mountain  regions." 

"And  if  we  lived  thousands  of  miles  away  from  it", 
said  Mary,  her  clear,  tuneful  voice  at  its  best,  "we  would 
not  rest  until  we  could  come  out  here  to  see  it.  But 
being  here,  where  we  can  view  it,  how  often  do  we  do 
so?" 

Tharny  came  a  little  later  in  the  evening.  Since  his 
return  from  his  ill-starred  trip  to  Spokane,  he  had  been 
paying  more  assiduous  court  than  ever  to  Mary  Norton 
and  never  before  had  he  exerted  himself  so  much  as  now 
to  be  attentive  in  all  those  little  details  that  women  like. 

To  Walton,  the  information  given  by  Norton  that 
Bradshaw  intended  visiting  in  Butte  and  calling  at  the 
Norton  home  in  the  next  couple  of  weeks,  was  news,  and 


248 BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

he  immediately  came  to  the  conclusion  that  in  planning 
thus  to  come  without  saying  anything  to  him  about  it, 
Dan  was  manifesting  the  irrepressible  streak  of  boyish- 
ness deep  in  him — a  quality  that  delighted  Walton  and 
endeared  Dan  the  more  to  him.  So  smiling,  when  he 
thought  of  Bradshaw's  evidently  planned  surprise-visit, 
he  scrupulously  refrained  from  referring  to  it  when  next 
he  wrote  to  Dan. 

At  work  in  his  office  one  evening,  Walton  received  a 
telephone  call  from  Norton. 

"We  are  very  eager  for  you  to  come  up  to  the  house 
tomorrow  evening",  the  mine  owner  told  him,  "for  we 
want  you  to  meet  a  most  interesting  visitor.  I'll  confess 
now  that  I  promised  him  that  one  of  the  rewards  of  his 
coming  to  see  us  would  be  meeting  you." 

The  newspaperman  said  he  would  be  glad  to  attend. 
After  he  had  hung  up  the  receiver  of  his  desk  telephone, 
he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed. 

"So  young  Daniel  is  going  to  venture  in  as  a  social 
lion",  he  remarked  to  himself.  "And  he  imagines  he  is 
going  to  put  over  a  good  joke  on  me.  Well,  I'll  fix  him — 
maybe." 

The  next  evening,  when  Walton  entered  the  Norton 
drawing  room,  he  found  DeWitt  Norton,  his  sister,  Mar- 
garet Hanlon  and  Dan  in  a  congenial  group  conversing 
and  awaiting  his  arrival. 

Norton  and  Dan  stood  up  as  Walton  approached  them 
and  Norton  said :  "Mr.  Williams,  permit  me  to  introduce 
you  to  Mr.  Walton,  the  distinguished  editor  and  novelist 
of  whom  I  have  told  you.  John,  I  know  you  well  re- 
member all  I've  told  you  of  Mr.  Williams." 

Dan  looked  his  friend  blandly  in  the  eye  and  putting 
out  his  hand,  said  cordially,  "I  am  honored  to  meet  Mr. 
Walton.  I  feel  as  if  I  have  known  him  for  some  time." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  249 

Walton  did  not  give  Dan  the  satisfaction  of  appear- 
ing the  least  puzzled.  He  took  Dan's  hand,  bowed 
slightly  and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  meeting  him. 

Then  the  men  seated  themselves,  and  general  conver- 
sation resumed. 

"Mr.  Walton,  as  you  may  know,  is  apt  to  interview 
you  closely",  remarked  Norton  to  Dan.  "As  both  a  news- 
paperman and  a  novelist  it  is  his  prerogative  to  find  out 
about  everything." 

Dan  smiled  a  trifle. 

"Perhaps  not  so  much  a  prerogative  as  a  special  priv- 
ilege." Then,  turning  to  the  newspaperman,  he  inquired 
suavely : 

"Might  I  ask,  Mr.  Walton,  if  you  are  writing  any 
more  books?" 

And  Walton,  almost  unable  to  restrain  his  impulse  to 
laugh,  looked  away,  but  Margaret  supplied  the  answer 
for  him,  stating  that  the  friends  of  Mr.  Walton  were 
urging  him  to  remain  firm  in  his  expressed  purpose  to 
continue  with  his  latest  idea  in  that  direction. 

"If  you  are  looking  for  inspiration  for  mountain  de- 
scription", said  Dan  to  Walton,  "you  ought  to  come  to 
my  place.  In  fact" — addressing  the  others — "I  am  go- 
ing to  take  this  occasion  to  repeat  the  invitation  I  ex- 
tended through  Mr.  Norton,  and  tell  you  that  I  will  ex- 
pect you  all  at  my  humble  mountain  home  next  week. 
And  if  Mr.  Walton  really  will  agree  to  come,  he  may 
find  a  theme  for  a  new  novel.  I'll  show  you  mountain 
scenery  that  will  fascinate  you  every  time  you  see  it,  for 
it  is  true  that  no  matter  how  often  you  view  them,  the 
mountains  are  never  twice  the  same." 

So  it  was  settled  that  the  following  week  was  to  find 
the  Nortons,  Margaret  and  Walton  the  guests  of  Dan. 

"What  do  you  call  your  bungalow,  Mr,  Williams?" 


250  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

asked  Mary.    "It  must  have  a  name." 

"Mostly  I  refer  to  it  as  'the  shack'  when  talking  of  it 
to  any  of  the  boys  at  the  mine",  Dan  informed  her. 

"That  will  never  do",  she  declared.  "But  we  will  at- 
tend to  that  when  we  get  there." 

And  she  had  not  the  faintest  idea  that  her  words, 
betokening  an  interest  in  something  that  belonged  to  him 
in  a  more  personal  way,  thrilled  him. 

They  spoke  of  various  subjects,  and  while  he  kept  up 
his  part  of  the  conversation,  Dan  also  proved  that  better 
part  of  a  good  conversationalist — an  attentive  listener. 

"Has  the  West  always  been  your  home?"  Margaret 
asked  him. 

"I've  always  considered  it  so,  even  when  away  from 
it",  Dan  replied.  "California  is  my  native  state  and 
Montana,  truly,  my  state  by  adoption;  and  now  I  know 
my  Montana  summer  and  winter.  Part  of  last  winter 
was  unusually  severe  for  me  up  there  at  the  mine,  in  the 
primitive  little  cabin  I  then  was  using,  and  I  discovered 
that  while  writers  generally  like  to  tell  more  of  the 
mountains  of  summer,  yet  the  winters  there  might  be 
productive  of  unusual  and  interesting  experiences  too." 

"You  speak  as  one  who  knows",  remarked  Walton. 
"From  actual  experience,  I  mean",  he  added. 

"Come — we  want  you  to  relate  one  of  those  experi- 
ences", demanded  Norton  and  the  two  girls  and  Walton 
likewise  insisted. 

"I'll  tell  you  of  a  curious  incident  at  the  cabin  last 
winter",  said  Dan  with  a  smile.  "One  very  cold  evening, 
just  after  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  when  I  was  enjoying  and 
appreciating  my  red-hot  stove,  I  thought  I  heard  a  call. 
I  bundled  up  and  went  out  to  investigate,  and  sure 
enough  came  on  a  man  struggling  through  the  snow  to- 
wards my  cabin.  I  helped  him  in,  and  while  he  was 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  251 

thawing  out,  I  fixed  him  up  a  meal.  He  said  he  was  a 
mining  engineer  and  that  while  on  his  way  to  town  had 
wandered  off  the  trail.  If  ever  a  man  looked  like  a  dan- 
gerous character  I  thought  he  did.  However,  I  told  him 
he  could  stay  all  night  and  prepared  a  'shake-down'  for 
him  near  the  stove.  I  had  some  money  in  the  cabin  and 
supplies  that  were  valuable  at  that  time  of  the  year,  and 
the  cabins  of  the  miners  were  some  distance  away;  so  I 
kept  my  revolver  handy.  I  was  surprised  when  he  drew 
out  and  looked  at  an  exceptionally  fine  gold  watch  and, 
when  he  caught  my  gaze  at  him  and  the  watch,  he  hastily 
replaced  it.  There  was  no  doubting  that  we  were  be- 
coming more  and  more  suspicious  of  each  other.  The 
thought  flashed  through  my  mind  that  this  watch  might 
be  part  of  some  plunder.  And  the  way  I  had  stared  at 
the  watch  was  enough  to  arouse  the  other  man's  sus- 
picion. I  kept  an  eye  on  him  and  I  knew  he  was  doing 
the  same  with  regard  to  me.  When  I  told  him  he  had 
better  turn  in  near  the  fire,  he  thanked  me  and  removed 
his  coat  and  there  pinned  to  his  shirt  was  a  fraternity 
pin  identical  with  one  I  had  in  my  kit.  We  were  frater- 
nity brothers.  So  we  sat  up  to  a  late  hour  and  fratern- 
ized, anoTwe  had  a  hearty  laugh  as  to  our  former  sus- 
picions of  each  other.  The  mountain  experiences  he  had 
gone  through  would  fill  a  book.  It  was  indeed  odd  to  find 
that  the  first  outsider  who  had  come  near  me  in  a  month 
in  the  midst  of  a  severe  winter  up  in  the  mountains  of 
Western  Montana  was  a  college  fraternity  brother." 
"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Mary. 

"And  what  fraternity  was  it,  might  I  ask?"  inquired 
her  brother. 

Dan  told  him. 

"My  fraternity  too!"  exclaimed  Norton  standing  up 
and  extending  his  hand  to  Dan,  who  arose  and  shook 


252  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

hands  with  Norton.  Over  his  shoulder  Norton  ad- 
dressed Walton.  "Now,  Sir  Novelist — what  say  you  to 
such  a  climax?" 

"It  is  one",  returned  the  newspaperman  as  the  other 
men  resumed  their  places,  "that  I  never  would  dare  to 
write  in  any  story." 

The  others  laughed,  and  then  Dan  remarked  to  Mary 
Norton:  "If  my  feeble  little  experience  merits  any  re- 
ward, I  claim  it  in  music  from  you.  At  'the  shack'  we 
have  a  surfeit  of  the  'canned'  variety.  I  never  will  for- 
get what  my  foreman  and  very  good  friend  said  one 
evening  when  I  took  him  over  to  play  a  new  medley  of 
Irish  airs  for  him  that  I  knew  he  would  like.  He  lis- 
tened carefully  and  after  I  had  finished  pumping  the 
pianola  in  my  best  style,  he  said: 

"  'Ut  shure  do  seem  funny  that  some  persun  will  have 
ta  shpend  a  forchun  larnin'  ta  play  wid  th'  han's  wat 
an-y  wan  kin  grind  out  by  poompin'  wid  their  fate  an'  no 
edikashun  at  all.' " 

"Perhaps  your  foreman  also  might  say",  laughed 
Mary  as  she  went  to  the  piano,  "  'the  less  musical  train- 
in'  an'  the  more  poompin ;  the  less  painful  maybe  for  all 
concerned.' " 

She  played  for  them,  with  soulful  understanding, 
Chopin's  lilting  "Fantaisie-Impromptu"  and  followed 
that  with  a  dashing  Bohemian  melody.  She  called  Mar- 
garet over  to  sing  for  them  a  charming  Saint-Saens  se- 
lection, a  bit  from  "Samson  and  Delilah"  which  suited 
her  melodious  contralto  voice,  and  which  was  Walton's 
favorite.  It,  too,  brought  a  demand  for  more. 

And  while  the  spell  of  melody  held  them,  vivid 
thoughts  passed  through  Bradshaw's  mind.  He  recalled 
the  look  of  Mary  Norton  and  the  voice  of  her  the  first 
time  he  had  seen  her — on  the  road  above  Carty's.  What- 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  253 

ever  he  had  thought  of  her  before ;  whatever  of  a  stimu- 
lus to  his  ambition  she  had  been,  he  saw  now  that  not 
even  his  most  ardent  dreaming  of  her  had  pictured  the 
girl  as  she  really  was.  Her  beauty  was  not  merely  su- 
perficial, but  was  the  reflection  of  the  soul  of  her.  She 
was  a  girl  and  yet  a  woman — presiding  over  her 
brother's  household  had  brought  out  womanly  qualities 
perhaps  sooner  than  otherwise  might  have  been  the  case. 
There  was  a  sweet  graciousness  about  her  and  yet  a 
strength  of  opinion  not  disquieting  nor  aggressive,  that 
went  well  with  her  sureness  of  poise. 

The  other  girl,  Margaret  Hanlon,  with  her  aristo- 
cratic cast  of  countenance,  her  blue-blackness  of  hair  and 
cool,  calmness  of  manner,  was  of  a  very  different  type. 
A  beautiful  woman,  too,  she  was  not  one  ever  to  make 
the  appeal  to  Bradshaw  as  had  Mary  Norton,  whereas 
for  the  studious  Walton,  Margaret  Hanlon  outshone  all 
other  women. 

Mary  Norton,  so  Bradshaw  felt  sure,  was  one  to  aid 
a  man,  to  stimulate  him  and  yet  make  him  manifest  his 
own  best  efforts.  And  all  the  time  she  would  be  depen- 
dent on  his  care  and  his  strength  and  always  needful  of 
his  love,  which  would  have  to  be  a  clean  and  a  true  and 
a  lasting  love,  or  else  this  girl  of  womanly  strength  and 
womanly  weakness,  of  womanly  self-reliance  and  wom- 
anly dependence  would  fade  and  droop  and  sink  away 
like  a  lovely,  fading,  drooping  flower.  But  in  the  love 
of  the  man  worthy  of  her,  what  could  not  such  a  woman 
be  and  do  ?  Such  a  woman  would  give  all  or  nothing. 

Then  the  mountain  man  thought  of  a  dingy,  little 
shoe-shop  with  a  modest  little  sitting-room  adjoining  it, 
presided  over  by  a  girl  of  buxom,  womanly  attractive- 
ness and  silky  brown  hair  in  coronet  braids  around  her 
head.  This  room  in  which  he  now  sat  was  everything 


254  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

that  a  drawing-room  in  the  mansion  of  a  DeWitt  Norton 
should  be.  That  other  one,  the  modest  sitting-room  back 
of  the  shoe-shop,  had  been  drab,  stolid,  typical. 

The  girl,  who  knew  this  drawing-room  as  part  of 
her  home,  was  of  high  degree,  of  finest  sensibilities,  of 
thorough  mentality,  of  a  womanly  fineness  in  every 
way  that  gratified  the  very  soul  of  a  man  who 
craved  the  fineness  of  life.  Argue  it  as  philoso- 
phers will;  dispute  it  as  politicians  may;  sneer  at  it 
as  the  street  corner  demagogue  does,  there  never- 
theless is  a  fineness  in  life  just  as  there  is  a  crudeness 
— a  fineness  that  has  with  it  sincere  regard  for  the  best 
there  is  in  God-given  and  Nature-given  and  man-made 
laws,  just  as  there  is  a  crudeness  that  is  of  earth  earthy. 
The  men  and  women  with  the  fineness  born  in  their 
souls,  whether  they  come  from  the  highest  or  the  lowest 
or  intermediate  stratum  of  society,  as  mankind  averages 
it,  can  no  more  help  inclining  to  the  fine,  the  true,  than 
can  the  individual  of  crudeness  of  soul  avoid  tending  the 
other  way.  Such  attribute  of  soul  may  be  the  refining 
process  of  spiritual  study  and  precept.  Theologians 
grow  amazed  and  bewildered  at  the  very  profundity  of 
the  subject,  for  it  is,  after  all,  like  the  mystery  of  never- 
ending  space,  or  the  trend  of  the  solar  system,  or  the  un- 
folding of  a  child's  mentality. 

The  girl  to  whom  the  little  sitting-room  back  of  the 
shoe-shop  had  been  much  of  home,  had  not  had  con- 
ferred on  her  that  fineness  of  soul.  It  was  not  the  acci- 
dent of  her  birth,  nor  her  station  in  life,  nor  any  man- 
date of  mankind  that  such  was  her  lack — but  that  Fate 
had  so  decreed,  though  sometimes  it  happens  that  a 
flower  of  unusual  beauty,  fragrance  and  inspiring  qual- 
ity blooms  in  a  pitifully  small  garden  plot  amid  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  255 

dire  and  dank  hopelessness  of  otherwise  squalid  back- 
yard. 

Bradshaw  looked  at  Mary  Norton  and  saw  her  as  she 
was — Patrician. 

He  thought  of  Millie  Klemner  as  he  had  known  her — 
Plebeian. 

And  he  knew,  too,  that  in  the  matter  of  soul  desire, 
he  truly  had  come  into  his  own. 

The  moment  that  Bradshaw  and  Walton,  leaving  the 
Norton  home  together,  turned  out  of  the  driveway  to  the 
thoroughfare,  the  miner  placed  a  hand  on  his  friend's 
arm. 

"John, — I  made  a  fool  of  myself  tonight",  he  said 
seriously.  "I'm  sorry." 

Walton  laughed. 

"Why  Dan,  I  thought  you  at  your  best",  the  writer 
declared.  "Your  stories  of  the  hills  were  interesting  and 
well  told.  I  am  sure  you  made  the  hit  of  your  young 
life  at  the  Nortons'  tonight." 

"I  was  there  under  false  pretense",  said  Bradshaw. 
"What  will  they  think  when  they  know  who  I  am?  What 
will  they  think  of  my  attitude  toward  you? — For  it  was 
my  action  that  gave  you  the  cue  as  how  to  act  toward 
me.  What  I  did  was  all  very  puerile.  I  am  disgusted 
with  myself — that's  all. 

"You  are  taking  it  entirely  too  seriously,  my  boy", 
said  Walton  calmly.  "Remember  this — you  are  not  a 
story-book  person.  Real  human  beings  of  whatever  size 
or  age  keep  enough  of  childish  prankishness  in  their  sys- 
tems to  enable  them  to  deviate  slightly  from  the  conven- 
tions once  in  awhile,  or,  at  least,  recognize  the  natural- 
ness of  it  making  others  do  so.  The  man  or  woman  who 
no  longer  retains  that  sort  of  ability,  we  allude  to  as 
crabid  or  crusty  or  soured — and  such  a  person  is  not 


256  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

popular.  Why,  man — there  was  nothing  wrong  in  what 
you  did  or  said  at  the  Nortons'  tonight.  Indeed,  there 
was  quite  an  element  of  romance  in  it." 

"In  some  ways,  the  entire  proposition  seems  inordi- 
nately silly,  now  that  I  look  back  at  it",  Bradshaw  per- 
sisted. "I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  joke  to  meet  you 
there  and  take  you  unawares.  Of  course,  as  to  my  going 
there  as  Williams,  that  was  something  I  could  not  help. 
I'll  have  to  rely  on  their  generosity  and  their  good  sense 
to  overlook  it  when  the  time  comes  to  explain,  as  I  can- 
didly intend  to  do." 

"You  are  seeing  it  my  way  after  all",  said  the  news- 
paperman, taking  his  friend  by  the  arm.  "As  for  the 
part  concerning  me — it  had  to  be  just  that  way  to  make 
the  rest  of  it  appear  right." 

"At  any  rate,  it  won't  be  a  long  continued  deception", 
remarked  Bradshaw.  "As  there  is  nothing  unworthy  be- 
ing concealed,  nor  anything  wrong  to  hide,  why,  I  think 
it  all  may  work  out  well  enough." 

"Leave  it  to  common  sense,  to  a  sense  of  humor,  to 
human  love  of  adventure  and  the  unusual — and  to  Mary 
Norton  to  straighten  it  all  out",  commented  the  news- 
paperman. 

To  a  question  asked  her  that  same  night  by  Mary 
Norton,  Margaret  Hanlon  replied:  "I'll  be  only  too 
happy,  Mary,  to  remain  over  and  go  with  you  and  De- 
Witt  to  that  ideal  place  of  which  Mr.  Williams  told  us." 

"And  I  am  sure  John  Walton  will  enjoy  it  too",  re- 
marked Mary  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  her  friend.  Then 
apropos  of  nothing,  she  added:  "DeWitt  generally  is  a 
very  good  judge  of  men.  He  seems  to  be  able  almost 
instinctively  to  determine  their  dispositions.  His  de- 
scription of  Mr.  Williams  as  a  manly  man  I  think  is  very 
p  »;oper." 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  257 

"A  most  interesting  and  romantic  kind  of  man", 
agreed  the  other  girl. 

And  before  Mary  Norton  glided  off  into  the  realm  of 
dreams,  there  recurred  to  her  certain  characteristics  of 
the  man  which  she  had  remarked  and  tried  to  study — 
that  seemed  somewhat  familiar  to  her,  as  if  she  had  seen 
some  man  before  who  raised  his  head,  chin  out,  the  same 
way  when  he  said  something  emphatically;  who  had  the 
way,  too,  of  looking  down  and  slightly  to  one  side  occa- 
sionally when  intently  listening  to  some  one,  and  who 
likewise  had  the  same  manner  of  upright  set  and  jaw- 
firmness. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THARNY  GOES  FISHING 

For  weeks,  Tharny  had  been  seeking  an  opportunity 
to  propose  to  Mary  Norton.  Several  times  he  had 
thought  the  moment  opportune,  only  to  find  that  before 
he  could  lead  up  to  his  declaration  there  had  been  inter- 
ruption. 

Indeed,  he  was  almost  in  the  mood  to  take  a  desper- 
ate chance  and  make  his  avowal  even  if  the  time  and 
place  were  not  as  romantic  as  he  would  have  liked  to 
have  them,  for  he  counted  on  the  romantic  element  as  an 
important  factor. 

Matters  were  not  progressing  at  all  to  his  liking  in 
a  business  way  and  an  affiliation  with  the  Norton  family 
was  by  far  his  best  move.  He  was  venturing  everything 
on  it,  and  accordingly  it  keyed  him  up  to  high  nervous 
tension. 

He  arranged  a  theater  party  with  Mary,  Margaret 
Hanlon  and  Norton  as  his  guests,  hoping  that  somehow 
the  chance  would  be  presented  for  a  very  confidential 
talk  with  Mary.  His  anxiety  was  causing  him  to  become 
somewhat  mentally  fevered  concerning  the  girl,  and  sev- 
eral times  he  caught  himself  up  in  time  to  avoid  what  he 
had  sense  enough  to  know  would  at  once  prove  fatal  to 
his  plan. 

It  came  to  him  as  a  shock  when,  on  the  way  home, 
Norton  told  of  the  contemplated  visit  to  D.  Williams' 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  259 

place  the  following  week.  At  once  the  scheme  suggested 
itself  to  Tharny  to  follow  to  that  region  and  trust  to  luck 
to  give  him  the  opportunity  he  so  eagerly  sought.  He 
knew  he  could  not  remain  in  town  and  possess  his  soul 
in  patience  pending  her  return. 

"Why,  I'm  going  out  for  a  fishing  trip  next  week", 
he  announced.  "Indeed,  I  expect  to  be  over  in  the  Red 
Flower  valley  district  part  of  the  time." 

"Perhaps  you  will  see  us",  said  Mary.  "Come  and 
call  on  us  at  Mr.  Williams'  bungalow.  I  am  sure  Mr. 
Williams  would  be  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"I  don't  like  to  impose  on  good-nature",  returned 
Tharny.  "But  I  might  meet  you  somewhere  up  there." 

Tharny  went  to  the  town  near  Bradshaw's  mine  the 
day  before  the  Nortons  and  Margaret  Hanlon  left  for 
the  M.  N. 

He  took  no  fishing  tackle  with  him,  but  he  did  take 
a  riding  suit,  for  he  planned  to  do  more  or  less  touring 
on  horseback  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town.  Nothing  like  a 
definite  plan  for  encountering  Mary  Norton,  suggested 
itself  to  him,  but  he  more  than  ever  was  possessed  of  the 
overmastering  desire  to  be  as  near  her  as  possible — it 
would  be  far  easier  to  endure  her  absence  from  Butte 
that  way. 

To  his  surprise  he  encountered  Vignon  on  the  second 
day  of  his  arrival  at  his  destination.  Tharny  was  on  his 
way  to  a  livery  stable  when  he  met  him,  and  he  at  once 
drew  Vignon  into  a  nearby  doorway. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  Tharny  demanded. 

"The  game's  not  good  in  Butte  right  now",  replied 
Vignon  with  a  leer.  "Me  an'  Wilkins  an'  Snitch  thought 
we  would  take  the  air  for  a  while  and  maybe  beat  it  over 
to  the  Coeur  d'Alenes.  We  stopped  off  here  an'  I  think 
there's  something  here  I  want  to  investigate.  I  want  to 


260  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

get  a  few  more  good  looks  at  this  guy  Williams." 

"Do  you  see  him  often?"  asked  Tharny. 

"We  seen  him  a  few  times  passing  along  the  road 
past  our  hangout,  but  he  didn'  know  we  was  there.  I 
hear  he  don't  like  wanderin'  campers  like  us  near  his 
place",  said  Vignon  with  a  sneering  laugh. 

"Where  are  you  located?"  Tharny  questioned. 

"In  the  woods  off  the  highway  that  goes  to  his  mine." 

Tharny  did  not  speak  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then 
he  lowered  his  tone  and  spoke  more  confidentially  to  the 
other. 

"But  we  can't  do  much  talking  here",  he  said  finally 
"I'll  keep  in  touch  with  you,  Vignon.  I'll  locate  your 
place  tomorrow  and  we  can  fix  things  up  all  right.  That 
will  be  a  lot  better  than  your  coming  in  town  to  see  me." 

"No,  I  guess  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  idea  for  us  to  be 
seen  consultin'  together",  Vignon  remarked,  the  sneer 
still  on  his  lips. 

"And  keep  Wilkins  and  Snitch  from  parading  around 
the  town",  Tharny  cautioned. 

They  exchanged  a  few  words  more,  and  Tharny  took 
a  bill  from  his  wallet  and  handed  it  to  Vignon. 

"You  can't  go  wrong  in  finding  the  place",  Vignon 
said  as  he  tucked  the  currency  away. 

Bradshaw  met  his  guests  at  the  depot  in  town  with 
a  big,  new  touring  car,  and  while  they  at  first  declared 
that  it  might  have  been  more  in  keeping  to  have  pene- 
trated into  his  mountain  retreat,  as  they  spoke  of  it, 
with  horses  in  real  mountaineer  traveling  style,  yet  they 
agreed  after  their  ride  across  the  valley  and  up  into  the 
mountains  that  the  mode  of  conveyance  he  had  provided 
was  the  more  conducive  to  comfort,  especially  after  the 
long  train  ride. 

The  mountain  bungalow,  to  which  their  host  took 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  261 

them,  won  the  enthusiastic  approval  of  the  young  women 
and  Walton,  and  the  repeated  "I  told  you  so"  of  Norton 
from  the  moment  they  came  in  sight  of  it. 

The  white-clad  Nip,  smiling  and  bowing,  met  them 
with  true  major-domo  manner  at  the  door,  and  when 
they  entered  the  bungalow's  cool  interior,  they  found  it 
had  been  flower-adorned  by  the  conscientious  Jap.  Each 
new  feature  of  the  bungalow  revealed  to  those  of  the 
party,  who  had  not  been  there  before,  brought  forth 
more  expressions  of  delight. 

Later  on,  when  Walton  cornered  Bradshaw  alone,  he 
spoke  to  the  miner  with  enthusiasm. 

"Dan,  that  writing-room  you've  fixed  up  for  me  is  a 
dream  and  no  mistake.  I  almost  had  to  laugh  when  you 
said  that  the  writer  friend  for  whom  you  had  fixed  it  up 
wouldn't  mind  my  using  it.  The  trouble  is  that  it  is  so 
complete  as  a  lounging  place  and  the  view  from  its  win- 
dows so  attractive  that  I  don't  know  how  I  ever  could 
get  down  to  writing  in  it." 

"If  you  insist  *on  writing",  returned  Bradshaw,  "go 
to  it,  John,  but  on  this  particular  visit  you  don't  have  to 
do  a  tap  of  writing  and" — he  smiled  at  the  newspaper- 
man— "if  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,  I  don't  think 
you'll  do  much  of  it  this  time." 

"Never  happier  than  when  writing  or  trying  to  do 
so",  remarked  Walton  with  a  laugh. 

"Or",  said  Bradshaw,  "when  in  process  of  getting 
an  inspiration  from  an  inspiring  source." 

The  young  women  made  instant  friends  with  Brad- 
shaw's  Airedale  and  with  Don  Quixote,  which  sagacious 
and  pampered  beast  immediately  took  a  great  liking  to 
them,  following  them  about  while  the  Airedale,  too, 
waited  constant  attendance  on  them.  The  only  grief 
that  came  to  the  burro  was  that  it  could  not  follow  them 


262  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

into  the  bungalow,  and  when  they  entered  it,  Don  Quix- 
ote would  remain  before  the  veranda  gazing  with  what 
looked  like  aggrieved  surprise  at  the  closed  screen-door. 

"Nip  never  has  seemed  so  happy  since  he's  been  with 
me  here  as  he  does  now",  Bradshaw  told  his  guests  en 
route  to  the  mine,  later  in  the  day.  "He  evidently  thinks 
he  never  has  had  a  proper  chance  before  up  here  to  show 
what  he  can  do  in  the  way  of  cooking,  and  this  is  his 
first  attempt  at  general  house-party  entertaining,  so  he 
is  putting  forth  every  effort." 

"He  is  a  treasure",  said  Mary  Norton. 

"As  a  discoverer  you  are  surely  a  vast  success", 
laughingly  said  Margaret  to  Bradshaw. 

At  supper  that  evening,  Margaret  made  an  announce- 
ment. 

"Mary  and  I  have  made  some  wonderful  discoveries 
of  our  own",  she  said.  "We  have  found  two  splendid  rid- 
ing horses  and  a  most  enticing  looking  buckboard  in  the 
stable,  and  we  mean  to  avail  ourselves  of  them  if  Mr. 
Williams  has  no  objection." 

"Any  objections  he  might  have  are  hereby  over- 
ruled", stated  Walton. 

Norton  regarded  his  sister  with  mock  severity. 

"Now,  young  lady",  he  said,  "we'll  have  no  gallavant- 
ing  about  on  mountain  roads  and  paths  on  horses,  un- 
less every  one  of  the  'Safety  First'  provisos  duly  made 
and  provided  for  are  strictly  observed." 

"I  appeal  to  Mr.  Williams",  said  Mary.  "Are  we  not 
to  be  permitted  the  use  of  those  horses  ?" 

"I  think  you  would  find  them  safe  enough",  Dan  re- 
plied with  a  smile,  "but  then  I  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Nor- 
ton that  riding  about  on  strange  mountain  roads  and 
trails  might  not  be  the  best  practice  unless  some  compe- 
tent guide  is  along.  I  am  going  to  have  another  of  my 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  263 

horses — one  used  for  driving  purposes — back  tomorrow 
when  Jackson,  one  of  my  men,  returns  from  the  lower 
camp,  where  he  is  bossing  some  new  development  work. 
And  I  think  we  might  accommodate  three  more  riding 
horses  from  town  in  our  stables  up  here,  so  that  when  we 
go  on  our  excursions,  where  no  automobile  possibly  could 
go,  we  will  be  well  provided." 

So  they  talked  and  planned  for  visits  to  different 
adjacent  localities — and  altogether  it  was  evident  that 
the  house  party  at  "the  shack"  was  in  a  happy  frame  of 
mind. 

Norton  and  Bradshaw  were  smoking  on  the  veranda 
that  evening,  pausing  now  and  then  in  their  conversa- 
tion to  listen  to  the  sweet  singing  of  Margaret  Hanlon 
or  the  playing  of  Norton's  sister,  while  Walton  obtained 
that  entertainment  from  a  much  nearer  vantage  place. 

And  then,  a  little  later,  when  Walton  was  showing 
and  explaining  a  book  of  photographic  mountain  views 
to  Margaret  Hanlon,  Mary  came  out  on  the  veranda  just 
as  the  two  men  there  had  tossed  away  the  carefully  ex- 
tinguished ends  of  their  cigars. 

"Truly  a  poetry-quoting  night",  she  said,  seating  her- 
self on  the  railing  next  to  a  wide  pillar  and  gazing  across 
the  clearing  and  the  trees  down  along  the  mountain  side 
deep  in  shadows  excepting  where  the  moonlight  picked 
out  the  higher  points. 

"If  I  want  to  write  a  few  lines  to  Carter  at  the  office 
in  Butte",  said  Norton,  "I'd  better  do  so  now  for  I'll  be 
too  busy  tomorrow.  So  I'll  ask  you  to  excuse  me",  and 
he  left. 

Bradshaw  seated  himself  on  the  rail  a  little  distance 
from  the  girl. 

"I  am  mighty  glad,  Miss  Norton,  that  the  place  is 
not  a  disappointment  to  any  of  my  guests",  he  said. 


264  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"But  one  thing  about  it  is",  she  objected. 

"May  I  ask  what  that  is?"  he  queried. 
"Its  name",  replied  the  girl.    "I  think  it  a  fearful 
misnomer  to  call  this  delightful  bungalow  'the  shack'." 
She  spoke  with  a  girlish  disdain  that  brought  a  laugh 
from  him. 

"What  would  you  suggest?"  he  asked. 

The  girl  looked  away  again  over  the  clearing  and  the 
trees  bathed  in  the  soft  moon  glow.  She  was  not  one  to 
descend  to  that  manner  of  querulous,  quibbling  affec- 
tion that  some  young  women  mistake  for  the  finesse  of 
conversational  dealing  with  men,  but  was  wholesomely 
direct. 

"I  think  'Mountain  View'  would  be  appropriate",  she 
said,  looking  at  him  candidly. 

"Then  'Mountain  View'  it  is  now  and  forever",  he 
declared. 

They  went  in  to  inform  the  others  of  the  selection 
of  a  new  name  for  the  bungalow,  which  information 
evoked  due  acclaim. 

Bradshaw  and  Walton  were  to  use  the  cabin,  Brad- 
shaw's  original  home,  which  stood  among  the  trees  at 
one  side  of  the  clearing,  as  sleeping  quarters. 

When  they  had  left  the  others,  the  two  friends 
strolled  slowly  across  the  clearing  to  the  shelter  of  the 
trees,  seating  themselves  on  a  log  in  front  of  the  cabin 
for  a  final  smoke  before  turning  in. 

"It's  like  a  chapter  out  of  a  novel",  said  Bradshaw. 
"Behold ! — the  ex-mucker  become  host  of  charming  ladies 
and  gallant  gentlemen." 

"Still  the  old  hankering  to  oppose  those  who  acquire 
— even  when  it's  you,  yourself,  who  is  doing  the  acquir- 
ing", remarked  the  candid  newspaperman. 

"You're  wrong,  all  wrong",  and  Bradshaw  shook  his 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  265 

head.  "I  surely  did  not  mean  to  convey  that  impression. 
No,  my  cynical  friend,  I  was  merely  marveling  at  the 
wonder  of  it  all." 

"It's  a  tribute  to  your  ability",  said  Walton. 

"To  my  luck,  you  mean",  remarked  the  other. 

"And  what,  in  the  final  analysis,  is  the  good  of  luck 
without  ability?"  questioned  Walton. 

"You  see  plenty  of  luck  without  ability",  Bradshaw 
stated. 

"But  it  takes  ability  to  enjoy  luck",  persisted  the 
newspaperman  and  the  miner,  slapping  him  on  the  back, 
arose. 

"Thus  endeth  the  lesson",  he  said,  dropping  what 
was  left  of  his  cigar  and  grinding  it  with  his  heel.  "I 
cannot  argue  successfully  against  you,  my  argumenta- 
tive and  clever  friend." 

Walton  also  carefully  extinguished  his  cigar. 

"I  am  glad  of  one  thing  anyhow",  said  the  newspaper- 
man, "and  that  is  I  know  you  have  the  ability  to  enjoy 
the  luck  I  think  you  are  going  to  have." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE  ARROW 

Bradshaw  and  Walton  were  up  with  the  dawn  and 
breakfasted  alone,  for  the  others  of  the  house  party  were 
not  yet  awake.  Soon  thereafter  they  were  at  the  mine. 
Bradshaw  prepared  to  go  underground,  and  Walton  ac- 
cepted the  delighted  Paddy  Skiff's  invitation  to  see  the 
"Missus". 

"Sure",  said  Paddy.  "Miss  Nortin  was  glad  to  see 
me,  bless  her,  an'  she's  promised  to  come  over  an'  see 
our  place  too." 

"Don't  wait  for  me,  Dan",  said  Walton  to  Bradshaw, 
as  he  was  about  to  leave,  "if  you  want  to  return  to  the 
house  before  I  get  back,  I  can  return  alone." 

Bradshaw,  returning  to  the  bungalow  an  hour  or  so 
before  noon,  encountered  Mary  Norton  and  the  Airedale 
and  Don  Quixote  amid  the  trees  at  the  edge  of  the 
clearing. 

"Welcome!"  she  exclaimed  when  she  saw  him.  "Do 
you  know  there  is  a  wonderful  spring  of  coldest,  best 
water  right  here  among  the  trees?  We  three  have  been 
enjoying  it." 

"One  of  the  handiest  and  best  things  on  the  place",  he 
agreed.  "I  think  I  would  like  some  right  now." 

Followed  by  the  Airedale  and  Don  Quixote,  they  went 
the  short  distance  to  the  spring. 

This  may  be  a  prosaic  way  to  treat  so  romantic  a 
spring",  said  Bradshaw  taking  a  tin  cup  from  a  stump 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  267 

beside  it,  "but  it's  a  convenient  way",  and  he  dipped  the 
cup  into  the  bubbling,  crystal  water  and  tendered  it  to 
the  girl. 

"Not  any  now,  thank  you",  she  said. 

"Then  permit  me",  and,  taking  off  his  hat,  he  put  the 
cup  to  his  lips  and  drank  deeply. 

"DeWitt  has  walked  down  to  the  lower  camp",  she 
informed  him,  as  they  made  their  way  back  towards  the 
clearing,  "and  Margaret  is  showing  Nip  how  to  make 
pop-overs,  so  I  came  out  here  to  entertain  Don  Quixote 
and  Brave."  She  laid  a  hand  on  the  head  of  the  splen- 
did Airedale  which,  when  he  could  be,  was  always  close 
beside  her. 

Bradshaw  looked  down  at  the  dog. 

"Brave  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you,  Miss  Norton. 
He  doesn't  make  friends  readily." 

"He  knows  I  have  a  special  liking  for  Airedales", 
she  remarked,  stroking  the  head  of  the  faithful  canine 
who  turned  adoring,  soulful  eyes  up  at  her. 

"Brave  is  a  gentleman",  said  Bradshaw,  "though 
Chat's  a  word  so  often  misused  that  it  is  almost  trite. 
But  in  the  real  meaning  of  the  word,  Brave  is  that.  The 
more  you  know  him,  the  more  you  will  see  that." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you  already  about  Brave",  she 
hastened  to  say.  "And  Don  Quixote",  she  turned  slightly 
to  reach  back  and  pat  the  head  of  the  burro,  following 
along  close  back  of  them,  "is  an  old  dear." 

"In  his  way,  something  of  a  gentleman  also",  said 
Bradshaw.  "At  any  rate,  he  means  well.  Up  in  the 
mountains  we  are  more  prone  to  speak  of  a  man  as  a 
man,  if  he  is  a  real  one,  instead  of  as  a  gentleman. 
Somehow,  the  word  'gentleman'  seems  more  appropriate 
amidst  real  refinement  and  gentler  actions,  and  silk 
hats." 


268  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

The  girl,  with  her  sidelong  glance,  took  quick  survey 
of  the  man  walking  beside  her — muscularly  built  and 
bronzed,  with  close  trimmed  beard  and  manly,  indeed,  in 
his  mountain  costume  of  corduroy,  blue  flannel  shirt  with 
flowing  tie,  high  laced  boots  and  stiff -brimmed  cowboy 
hat  which  he  wore  tilted  down  over  his  eyes. 

"Is  refinement  a  matter  of  attire  and  location?"  she 
asked  with  a  half  smile. 

The  man  laughed. 

"Not  at  all.  I  expressed  myself  clumsily.  I  meant 
that  we  mountain  people  perhaps  are  more  blunt.  But 
we  claim  equal  degree  of  sincerity.  Sincerity  is  a  qual- 
ity which,  like  gold,  is  wherever  you  find  it." 

"And  so  is  the  quality  of  being  a  gentleman",  said 
the  girl 

"That  is  true",  he  agreed.  "I  remember  once  know- 
ing a  pugilist — a  fine  looking,  clean  little  chap  he  was. 
I  was  in  college  at  the  time  and  his  training  quarters 
were  at  a  famous  resort  not  so  far  away.  Many  of  those 
in  school,  who  cared  for  athletics,  went  over  to  see  him 
train.  He  took  a  liking  to  me  and  confided  in  me,  and 
while  the  others  thought  him  reserved  almost  to  the  point 
of  moroseness,  I  knew  the  reason  for  his  reserve.  It  was 
only  that  he  did  more  thinking  than  they  accredited  him 
with  doing.  One  day  I  was  in  his  dressing  room  just 
after  he  had  finished  a  work-out.  We  were  there  alone 
and  he  looked  very  boyish  sitting  there  on  a  bench  in  his 
big  dressing-robe,  his  boxing  gloves  beside  him.  The 
light  from  the  window  behind  him  outlined  his  very 
pleasing  profile  perfectly.  He  was  training  for  the  ban- 
tam-weight championship  fight  at  the  time,  but  he  spoke 
very  little  if  at  all  of  it.  We  had  been  talking  of  the  col- 
lege and  affairs  there,  and  he  was  more  interested  in  its 
debating  society  than  its  athletics.  He  suddenly  turned 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  269 

to  me  and  said  something  in  a  way  I  never  will  forget. 

"  'One  time',  he  said,  'in  Denver,  after  I  had  made  a 
reputation  as  a  boxer,  some  of  the  club  boys,  for  a  lark, 
I  suppose,  though  I  didn't  think  so  then,  got  me  to  tog  up 
in  fashionable  full  dress  and  they  took  me  with  them  to 
a  society  function,  but  instead  of  introducing  me  as  Kid 
Jones' — that  wasn't  his  name,  by  the  way — 'they  pre- 
sented me  as  Mr.  Arthur  Jones  and' — I'll  never  forget 
the  look  in  the  Kid's  dark  eyes  as  he  spoke — 'they 
thought  I  was  a  gentleman.' " 

There  was  a  brief  interval  of  silence. 

"And  so  he  was",  went  on  Bradshaw.  "It  means  hav- 
ing that  fine,  elusive,  yet  steel-like  quality  of  propriety. 
The  Kid  had  it  and  so  have  many  men  in  towns  and 
mountains  and  everywhere  else.  Brave  has  it." 

The  girl  laughed  in  a  low,  soft  tone. 

"I  think  you  are  right",  she  said.  "Once  up  on  a  mine 
road  in  Butte,  a  man,  an  utter  stranger  to  me,  stepped 
in  and  protected  me  from  an  annoyance  that  was  not  so 
serious  as  it  was  impudent.  He  was  a  man  of  real  cour- 
age and  if  he  had  that  fine,  elusive  and  steel-like  quality 
of  propriety  of  which  you  have  spoken,  Mr.  Williams, 
then  truly  he  must  have  been  a  real  gentleman." 

The  girl,  looking  ahead  of  her,  did  not  see  the  keen 
glance  the  man  directed  at  her,  nor  could  she  tell  that 
beneath  the  bronze  of  his  face,  the  blood  burned  hotly. 

At  the  door  of  the  bungalow,  Nip  informed  Bradshaw 
of  a  telephone  call,  so  Dan,  excusing  himself,  left  the  girl. 

At  luncheon,  Norton  enthusiastically  told  of  his  walk 
down  to  the  lower  camp  and  of  what  he  had  seen  there. 

"Incidentally",  he  said  to  Bradshaw,  "down  along 
the  main  road,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  three  first  class 
specimens  of  the  genus  Direct  Actionist.  They  may  look 


270  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

worse  than  their  bite,  for  I'll  admit  I  did  not  get  a  very 
good  look  at  them." 

"Itinerants",  said  Bradshaw.  "We  very  seldom  see 
them  up  this  way."  But  he  did  not  tell  his  guests  that 
Paddy  Skiff  had  telephoned  to  him  of  a  report  brought 
to  the  foreman  of  three  campers,  not  far  from  the  main 
road  near  where  the  branch  to  the  lower  camp  joined  it, 
and  that  Jackson,  who  had  gone  down  to  look  them  over, 
had  come  back  with  the  word  that  they  were  "Red  Mike" 
Vignon  and  his  henchmen,  Wilkins  and  Snitch. 

After  lunch,  Bradshaw  left  his  guests  to  their  own 
devises  while  he  went  to  the  mine  and  had  a  talk  with 
Paddy  Skiff. 

"I  don't  want  any  trouble  with  Vignon  and  his  two 
hoboes  right  now",  Dan  told  Paddy.  "Try  to  keep  an 
eye  on  them  if  they  come  close  to  the  mine  or  'the  shack', 
or  if  they  hang  around  too  close  to  the  lower  camp.  As 
long  as  they  stay  where  they  are,  or  in  that  immediate 
neighborhood,  we  won't  say  anything  for  the  present, 
but  don't  let  them  get  near  any  of  the  workings.  Later 
on,  I'll  see  about  them  if  they  are  still  around  here. 
Meantime,  we  won't  take  any  chances.  I  know  them  too 
well  to  let  them  run  wild." 

Returning  to  the  bungalow,  he  rejoined  the  others  for 
the  afternoon  outing  at  a  nearby  mountain  lake.  Gayly 
the  party,  mounted  on  horseback,  and  with  the  efficient 
Nip  coming  along  with  the  lunch  in  the  buckboard,  pro- 
ceeded on  its  way. 

The  delight  of  the  occasion  was  but  typical  of  the 
pleasant  events  that  followed  each  other  at  and  near 
"Mountain  View"  in  the  following  two  days. 

On  the  third  morning  after  the  outing  at  the  lake, 
Bradshaw  went  to  inspect  the  lower  camp.  He  had  pro- 
posed that,  in  the  cooler  period  of  the  late  afternoon, 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  271 

they  motor  to  town  and  about  its  environs,  have  supper 
at  the  excellent  hotel  there  and  return  to  "Mountain 
View"  in  the  evening.  So,  with  such  understanding  as 
to  the  afternoon  and  evening  entertainment,  Bradshaw 
had  left  for  his  visit  to  the  lower  camp.  He  might  have 
proceeded  there  on  horseback,  along  part  of  the  main 
highway  to  town  and  then  a  branch  road,  but,  as  he  said 
to  Norton,  he  had  decided  to  go  on  foot  over  a  mountain 
trail  that  shortened  the  distance  from  "Mountain  View" 
to  the  lower  camp  by  more  than  a  mile  and  also  afforded 
a  form  of  exercise  that  Dan  liked. 

Just  before  the  lunch  hour,  Norton  settled  himself 
down  to  reading  in  the  living-room. 

Margaret  Hanlon  busied  herself  with  a  letter  at  the 
library  table,  while  Walton  went  to  the  writing-den. 

Mary,  calling  Brave,  determined  to  achieve  the  glory 
of  making  the  climb  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  thinking  of 
the  surprise  her  exploit  would  occasion  the  others. 

Her  way  was  along  a  path  through  the  dense  woods 
that  for  some  distance  paralleled  the  main  highway  and 
then  swung  away  at  almost  right  angles  towards  the 
ridge. 

Brave  was  darting  into  the  brush  here  and  there, 
sometimes  running  along  the  path  ahead  of  her  and 
again  pacing  sedately  at  her  side.  All  at  once,  he  thrust 
forward  his  muzzle  and  pricked  up  his  ears,  the  while 
whining  slightly. 

Some  one  was  coming  along  the  pathway  and  as  yet 
screened  from  the  girl's  sight.  When  she  came  to  the 
next  wide  turn,  she  saw  a  man  approaching.  He  would 
have  seen  her  had  he  been  looking  straight  along  the 
path,  but  he  was  far  more  intent  on  peering  at  the  bushes 
at  the  side  of  the  path  as  he  came. 

She   stopped   short  in   surprise   as   she   recognized 


272  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Tharny.  Whatever  was  he  doing  here?  Why  had  he 
come  ?  Was  it  because  he  could  not  remain  away  from — 
and  she  was  smiling  a  little  to  herself  even  before  she 
had  completed  the  thought. 

Then  she  was  on  the  very  point  of  hailing  him  when 
the  bushes  near  him  parted  and  a  burly  figure  stepped 
out  to  accost  Tharny.  It  was  Vignon. 

Instinctively  she  stepped  back.  She  quieted  Brave 
with  a  pat  on  his  head  and  he  licked  her  hand,  but  he 
continued  quivering  as  though  with  surpressed  excite- 
ment. 

The  two  men  were  coming  along  now,  and  without 
realizing  her  action,  she  stepped  off  the  path,  Brave  at 
her  heels  and  the  thick  bushes  concealed  them.  But  she 
heard  their  voices  and  presently  could  distinguish  their 
words.  When  nearly  opposite  her,  they  stopped  and  she 
heard  Tharny  saying,  "I  had  a  good  hunch  this  would 
be  the  time  to  come  out  again  to  see  you.  But  you  want 
to  be  sure  you  know — your  dope  the  last  two  times  was 
all  wrong." 

"It's  all  right  this  time — we've  got  the  lovely  chance 
to  fix  this  guy  so's  his  lady-love  won't  think  he's  such  a 
much." 

"Cut  it  out",  snapped  Tharny.  "Show  me  some  ac- 
tion. You've  got  a  chance  to  show  I  made  no  mistake  in 
keeping  you  on  the  payroll." 

"Payroll!"  snorted  Vignon.  "A  loan  now  an'  then, 
after  that  hundred  a  month  proposition  went  bump,  ain't 
exactly  bein'  on  any  payroll." 

"Well,  those  loans  helped,  especially  after  your 
League  idea  blew  up." 

"Anyhow",  came  Vignon's  retort,  "I  raised  some  hell 
before  it  went  bump." 

"Get  down  to  business",  snapped  the  other.    "There's 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  273 

another  hundred  in  this  thing,  you  know,  if  you  go 
through  with  it." 

"Oh  I'm  goin'  through",  the  other  assured  him.  "I 
got  a  little  axe  to  grind  aroun'  this  place  myself — one  of 
the  bunch  roun'  here  threatened  to  have  us  run  off." 

"What's  the  layout?"  asked  Tharny. 

"Me  an'  Wilkins  an'  Snitch  jumps  him  when  he's 
comin'  along  the  road  from  his  lower  camp.  He  gen'rally 
walks  it — so  Wilkins  found  out  from  a  friend  of  his  down 
there.  Then  we  beats  him  up  good.  What  kind  of  a 
showing  can  he  make  when  he  gets  back  to  his  house  all 
beat  up  ?  Why  the  girl'll  think  he's  nothin'  but  a  rough- 
neck— see?  Just  a  rough-house  scrapper — that's  all." 

"Where'd  you  get  that  idea  about  the  girl  part  of 
it?"  demanded  Tharny  angrily. 

Vignon  laughed.  "Snitch  is  no  fool.  He's  seen  you 
out  with  her  in  Butte,  an'  up  here  it  looks  as  if  Williams 
is  the  whole  thing.  I  don't  need  no  brick  house  to  fall 
on  me.  Of  course  if  you  want  to  get  hunk  with  him  for 
some  other  reason,  that's  all  right  with  me  too,  but  I'll 
bet  a  cootie  if  he  loses  out  with  her  you  won't  weep." 

"Never  mind,  Vignon — that  part's  all  right.  You  go 
through  with  your  end  of  it."  Tharny  spoke  tensely. 
"See  that  he  gets  all  that's  coming  to  him.  Don't  murder 
him — just  beat  him  to  a  finish.  Where  are  your  pals?" 

"I  planted  'em  down  by  the  road — they  didn'  need  to 
know  ev'rything  that's  between  us.  That's  why  I  told 
you  to  come  up  along  this  way." 

"Good  enough.  I'll  go  there  and  watch  the  fun  from 
the  brush  if  it  comes  off  soon  enough.  My  horse  is  tied 
in  the  woods  a  mile  from  the  lower  camp.  I'll  get  back 
to  town  after  the  show  is  over,  if  there's  a  performance 
in  reasonable  time  today,  and  then  you  come  in  and  see 
me — back  room  of  the  same  saloon  as  before." 


274  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

"Nix — gimme  the  hundred  now",  Vignon  demanded. 
"I  might  want  to  make  a  speedy  getaway." 

There  was  a  little  more  talk  on  that  subject,  but  the 
girl  did  not  remain  for  it.  She  was  making  a  detour 
through  the  brush  to  regain  the  pathway  and  once  on  it, 
she  sped  as  fast  as  she  could  towards  the  bungalow.  Her 
thought  was  to  have  her  brother  telephone  to  the  lower 
camp  and  warn  Dan.  Yet,  and  a  fear  rose  in  her  heart, 
if  Dan  already  had  left  the  lower  camp  there  would  be 
delay  in  telephoning  there  to  have  someone  go  after  him, 
and  even  then  he  might  take  the  warning  lightly  and  go 
on  to  investigate.  Her  woman's  nature  rebelled  against 
the  idea  of  his  even  risking  the  danger. 

She  was  approaching  the  bungalow  from  the  rear, 
and  as  she  came  opposite  the  stable,  she  saw  Dan's 
favorite  driving  horse  he  had  named  The  Arrow,  har- 
nessed to  the  light  buckboard.  John,  the  stableman,  had 
just  finished  harnessing  up  The  Arrow  and  had  gone  to 
the  kitchen  to  ask  Nip  what  he  wanted  brought  from 
town. 

The  moment  the  girl  saw  The  Arrow,  a  new  plan 
flashed  through  her  mind.  She  quickly  untied  the  horse 
and,  climbing  into  the  rig,  took  the  lines. 

The  Arrow  was  just  swinging  into  the  roadway  when 
John  came  to  the  stable  and  he  ran  forward  towards  the 
road,  great  annoyance  plainly  depicted  on  his  face. 
However,  when  he  saw  who  was  driving,  he  stopped  and 
a  smile  succeeded  his  deep  frown. 

"She  can  handle  him — she  sure  knows  how  to  drive 
and  The  Arrow  likes  her",  he  said  to  himself.  "I  sup- 
pose she  thinks  that's  a  fine  joke  on  me  to  go  an*  take 
him  for  a  minute." 

Indeed,  the  stableman  was  very  much  disposed  to- 
ward this  wonderfully  pleasant  young  woman.  Much  to 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  275 

his  gratification  and  Dan's  surprise,  she  had,  soon  after 
her  arrival,  made  ready  friends  with  the  spirited,  glossy, 
arch-necked  Arrow  who  seemed  in  no  more  fear  of  her 
than  she  of  him,  and  he  readily  had  manifested  that  from 
her  hand  offerings  of  sugar  were  most  delectable. 

The  buckboard  was  a  trig  little  vehicle,  and  with 
Mary  Norton  in  it,  was  a  very  inconsiderable  load  for 
such  a  powerful  animal  as  The  Arrow.  But  that  spirited 
horse  well  knew,  by  reason  of  that  peculiar  nerve-vibra- 
tion which  flashes  along  the  reins  from  driver  to  equine 
brain,  that  a  capable  person  was  in  charge. 

While  Mary  Norton  was  turning  The  Arrow  into  the 
main  road  from  the  roadway  connecting  "Mountain 
View"  and  the  mine,  Bradshaw,  Paddy  Skiff  and  Jackson 
were  fairly  well  along  from  the  lower  camp,  they  having 
decided  to  come  via  the  roadway. 

The  main  road  was  a  clever  piece  of  engineering  and 
construction  work.  It  had  no  precipitous  grades,  but  fol- 
lowed down  along  the  mountain  side  at  a  gradual  incline, 
sometimes  bordered  on  one  side  by  a  high,  cliff -like  side 
of  hill  and  on  the  other  by  a  steep,  tree-studded  slope. 
Then  it  ran  fairly  level,  by  reason  of  cuts  and  fills,  across 
a  stretch  of  bulging  mountain  side.  Almost  for  its 
length  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  road  was  edged 
with  trees. 

Coming  down  the  more  inclined  parts  of  the  road, 
Mary  kept  the  reins  taut,  aiding  The  Arrow  to  keep  his 
footing,  but  seeking  to  make  the  best  time  she  could. 
She  was  trembling  with  excitement  for  she  must  reach 
Bradshaw  before  he  came  to  where  he  was  to  be  waylaid. 

Reaching  the  last  of  the  almost  level  stretches,  that 
went  between  arching  trees  and  curved  at  its  end  to  that 
length  of  road  along  which  Dan  and  his  two  companions 
were  coming,  The  Arrow  broke  into  a  faster  gait  now  and 


276 BOftN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

again  tossing  his  arched  neck  and  shaking  his  head  in 
the  exuberance  of  his  spirit. 

From  the  side  of  the  road  where  the  trees  and  bushes 
grew  thickest,  there  peered  the  evil  face  of  Vignon,  and 
the  instant  that  the  startled  girl  beheld  it,  The  Arrow, 
noting  the  movement  in  the  underbrush,  shied.  Then  as 
Vignon  drew  back,  letting  the  parted  bushes  snap  to- 
gether, the  frightened  horse  sprang  forward,  taking  the 
bit  in  his  teeth. 

The  girl  braced  herself  and  pulled  back  on  the  reins 
with  all  her  unavailing  strength,  talking  to  The  Arrow 
in  a  low,  firm  voice  in  an  effort  to  calm  him.  But  the 
animal  plunged  on,  the  light  buckboard  bounding  from 
side  to  side.  One  of  the  lines  parted  near  the  bit  and 
the  maddened  horse,  free  from  all  restraint,  dashed 
headlong  on  towards  where  Bradshaw,  who  had,  at  sight 
of  the  oncoming  rig,  run  ahead  of  his  companions,  was 
half  crouching  for  a  spring  on  the  outer  rim  of  the  road. 
Paddy  and  Jackson  had  quickly  lined  up  side  by  side 
with  outstretched  arms  as  if  to  form  a  barrier  across 
the  road,  at  the  same  time  crying  out,  "Whoa !  whoa !" 

In  the  brief  moments  that  passed,  before  the  horse 
reached  him,  Bradshaw  saw  the  girl  half  rise,  as  if  with 
the  idea  of  trying  to  climb  over  the  back  of  the  buck- 
board  and  drop  to  the  ground,  but  the  next  lunge  of  the 
vehicle  threw  her  roughly  forward,  so  that  to  save  her- 
self she  had  to  crouch  at  the  bottom  of  the  rig.  Brad- 
shaw's  purpose  was  to  make  the  horse  take  the  inner 
side  of  the  road,  which  was  against  a  sharp  rise,  and 
thus  away  from  the  danger  of  toppling  over  the  outer 
edge  down  the  steep  declivity  below  the  point  where  he 
waited,  and,  in  the  instant  that  he  was  drawing  him- 
self even  closer  together  to  hurl  himself  at  the  bridle,  he 
saw  the  dangling  bit  of  rein  on  the  side  nearest  him. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  277 

Through  his  keenly  active  brain  flashed  the  realization 
that  he  could  not  hope  to  check  the  horse  as  he  had 
planned.  But  as  the  wildly  galloping  animal  swerved 
from  him  to  the  inner  side  of  the  road,  Bradshaw 
whirled  and  shot  forward  his  right  arm  so  that  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  barely  closed  over  the  top  of  the  slender 
iron  rail  at  the  back  of  the  buckboard.  It  was  a  pre- 
carious enough  hold,  but  in  desperation  he  made  it  do, 
and  half-dragged,  half-running,  he  managed  to  close  a 
full  grip  around  the  bar.  All  that  he  was  doing  was 
immeasurably  quicker  than  could  be  the  telling  of  it, 
for  one  great  purpose  was  electrifying  him — to  be  up 
there  in  the  buckboard  with  the  girl — to  shield  her,  to 
give  her  all  there  was  of  his  man  strength. 

With  his  left  hand  now  gripping  the  slender,  iron 
rod,  he  drew  himself  up  so  that  he  could  grasp  with  his 
right  hand  two  of  the  little  bars  that  held  up  the  back 
of  the  buckboard's  seat.  Quickly  he  was  crouching  be- 
side the  girl  and  leaning  forward  to  get  the  other  rein, 
but  it  was  just  beyond  his  reach.  He  made  as  if  to  climb 
over  the  dash-board  to  the  back  of  the  horse,  but  at  the 
next  turn  The  Arrow  left  the  road  where  nearly  level 
ground  abutted  it,  ending  at  the  embankment  of  a  cut 
through  which  ran  the  aerial  tramway. 

Another  moment  and  Bradshaw  was  crouching  be- 
side the  girl  again,  his  left  arm  holding  her  close  to  him 
as  he  drew  from  the  holster  under  his  coat  a  blunt,  pow- 
erful automatic  revolver,  and,  pointing  it  straight  before 
him,  only  waited  until  the  next  second  when  the  arched 
neck  of  the  horse  came  rearing  into  view  and  then  he 
fired.  Again  he  fired  and  yet  a  third  time,  as  The  Ar- 
row, sorely  stricken,  wavered  and  reeled,  when  Bradshaw 
threw  the  weapon  from  him  and  clasping  the  girl  in  both 
his  arms  held  her  tightly.  He  caught  only  a  fleeting 


278  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

glimpse  of  The  Arrow  dropping  forward  dying — and 
then  darkness  engulfed  him  as  the  buckboard  splintered 
atop  horse  and  tangled  harness. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes,  Bradshaw  was  at  one  side 
of  the  wreckage  and  the  girl,  unhurt,  was  kneeling  be- 
side him,  wiping  the  grime  from  his  face.  He  tried  smil- 
ing up  at  her,  a  rather  painful  process  for  his  somewhat 
bruised  face. 

At  any  rate,  he  asked,  "Are  you  all  right,  Mary?" 
and  directly  lost  sight  of  her  face  as  blackness  again 
swept  over  him. 

Paddy  and  Jackson  came  running  up. 

Dan  was  fully  restored  to  consciousness  by  the  time 
he  had  been  taken  to  the  lower  camp,  and  when  Norton, 
Walton  and  Margaret  arrived  as  quickly  as  they  could 
be  summoned,  he  was  standing  up  declaring  repeatedly 
that  he  only  had  sustained  some  bruises  and  a  few 
scratches. 

Norton  took  his  sister  in  his  arms  crushing  her  to 
him,  and  when  he  let  her  go  there  were  tears  in  his 
eyes.  From  her  brother's  arms  she  went  to  those  of 
Margaret  Hanlon,  and  Norton  grasped  Bradshaw's  hand 
and  looked  at  him  in  a  way  that  revealed  to  the  latter  the 
depth  of  the  brother's  feelings  more  than  could  words. 

That  evening,  when  Bradshaw  and  his  guests  were 
gathered  in  the  big,  cheerful  living  room  of  Mountain 
View,  Dan  was  saying,  "And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
let  us  be  cheerfully  thankful — thankful  and  cheerful." 

His  tone  and  manner  did  much  to  dispel  the  gloom 
that  the  shock  had  occasioned  and  the  fear  that  gripped 
their  hearts  whenever  thought  came  of  the  possibilities 
that  might  have  ensued. 

When  they  would  have  praised  him,  Bradshaw  sought 
to  evade  any  appearance  of  heroism  by  declaring  that 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  279 

had  he  not  been  in  the  way,  The  Arrow  would  have  kept 
to  the  road  and,  doubtless,  quickly  would  have  come  to 
his  senses. 

These  were  not  morbid  people,  so  they  did  not  dwell 
to  marked  extent  on  the  details  of  the  accident. 

It  is  often  the  manner  of  men  and  women  who  come 
from  fighting,  daring  and  doing  stock  to  conceal,  when 
they  deem  it  needful,  the  deepest  of  emotions  beneath  a 
surface  of  quiet,  even  cheerfulness — always  steadiness. 
They  usually  are  the  sort  whose  ancestors  smiled  when 
death  stared  them  in  the  face  and  so  helped  inculcate 
the  theory  that  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile. 

The  members  of  the  "Mountain  View"  house-party 
retired  early  that  evening  and,  in  the  seclusion  of  the 
cabin,  Walton  again  spoke  to  Bradshaw  of  the  runaway. 

"Dan,  Lad",  said  the  newspaperman,  as  he  sat  beside 
Bradshaw  on  the  edge  of  a  bunk  and  put  his  arm  across 
his  friend's  shoulders,  "I  won't  speak  words  of  praise  to 
you.  You  know  what  I  think — what  we  all  think  of  your 
brave  action.  You  saved  a  wonderful  girl — I  don't  need 
to  tell  you  that.  You  did  a  man's  part — you  proved 
yourself  the  man  you  always  have  been  and  are.  You 
showed  remarkable  presence  of  mind." 

"Thanks,  Old  Man",  said  Bradshaw  quietly,  and  that 
was  all. 

The  next  morning  when  Dan  saw  Paddy  Skiff  at  the 
mine  office  he  spoke  a  few  words  to  him. 

"Sure  an'  it's  all  bin  tended  to",  the  foreman  assured 
him,  and  by  that  he  meant  that  the  body  of  The  Arrow 
had  been  buried  and  the  wreckage  of  the  buckboard  and 
harness  burned. 

During  Dan's  absence  from  the  bungalow,  Norton 
conferred  with  the  girls  and  Walton. 

"Mr.  Williams  not  only  has  placed  Mary  and  me 


280 BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE 

under  a  great  obligation  to  him",  Norton  said,  "but  he 
has  tried  to  make  us  all  happy  while  here  as  his  guests. 
Now  during  these  last  couple  of  days  of  our  stay  here, 
let  us  continue  to  be  cheerful." 

And  to  that,  the  others  heartily  agreed. 

That  evening,  when  Dan  was  coming  across  the 
clearing  from  the  cabin,  Mary  intercepted  him. 

"I've  been  wanting  an  opportunity  to  see  you  alone", 
she  informed  him.  "The  Arrow  ran  away  because  he 
was  frightened.  A  man  in  the  bushes — a  most  villainous 
man — " 

He  gently  interrupted  her. 

"I  can  imagine  who  he  was,  Miss  Norton — he  is  a 
thorough  rascal,  a  real  red-anarchist  and  has  not  the 
slightest  love  for  me.  In  fact,  I  know  he  has  made 
threats,  but  they  are  vaporings  and  won't  materialize. 
I've  known  for  several  days  that  he's  been  loitering 
around  here.  Do  not  give  yourself  the  slightest  uneasi- 
ness about  him  for  we  are  keeping  close  track  of  him  and 
his  two  companions.  They  are  not  going  to  be  around 
here  much  longer.  Please,  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  give  your- 
self the  least  concern  about  him.  We  are  prepared  to 
handle  him  and  the  other  two  at  any  time  and  we  are  on 
our  guard  all  the  time.  In  fact  Paddy  Skiff,  Jackson  and 
myself  were  scouting  along  the  road  just  to  get  sight  of 
them." 

The  girl  said  no  more  and  she  was  thankful  he  had 
told  her  that.  To  her  it  seemed  that  anything  she  now 
might  tell  him  of  what  had  caused  her  to  drive  The  Ar- 
row would  appear  utterly  and  cheaply  melodramatic. 
He  had  thought  that  she  had  merely  meant  to  come  for 
him  with  The  Arrow  so  that  he  might  ride  to  the  bunga- 
low, and  she  would  not  disillusion  him. 

Only  once  again  did  Mary  speak  to  Bradshaw  of  the 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  281 

runaway  and  the  rescue.  That  was  on  the  final  evening 
of  the  house  party's  visit,  when  she  and  Dan  were  out 
on  the  veranda,  the  moonlight  casting  its  spell  over  the 
mountain  scenery. 

"Mr.  Williams",  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  know  that 
— that  what  you  did  at  the  time  of  the  runaway  always 
will  be  remembered  by  me." 

For  a  moment  or  two  neither  of  them  spoke  and  then 
Dan  said,  "I'm  sure,  Miss  Norton,  that  The  Arrow  didn't 
really  mean  to  do  it.  He  wasn't  a  vicious  animal." 

There  came  to  him  a  fleeting  memory  of  a  glossy 
brown,  arched  neck  pierced  by  the  powerful  bullets  of 
an  automatic  revolver.  And  he  added,  "But  he  had  to 
pay  the  price  of  his  folly." 

Suddenly  Bradshaw  turned  to  the  girl. 

"Had  it  been  my  life  for  yours  I  would  gladly  have 
given  it",  he  added.  "I—" 

Then  Norton,  Margaret  and  Walton  came  out  on  the 
veranda. 

Not  again  did  Bradshaw  have  occasion  to  speak  to  the 
girl  alone,  nor,  in  fact,  did  he  seek  it.  But  he  said  to 
her  as  he  bade  farewell  to  his  departing  guests  at  the 
depot  in  town,  "Next  week  I  will  be  in  Butte  and  I  hope 
to  see  you." 

"I'll  expect  you  then",  she  said  smilingly. 

To  Margaret  Hanlon,  who  had  announced  that  she 
was  going  to  leave  Butte  almost  immediately  upon  her 
arrival  there,  to  join  her  mother  at  San  Francisco  for  a 
journey  to  Honolulu,  he  remarked,  "You  mustn't  forget 
your  friends  in  Montana,  Miss  Hanlon,  when  you  are  far 
away." 

"I  never  will  forget  them",  she  declared,  and  then 
more  impulsively,  "and  I'm  going  to  say  again,  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, that  I  never  will  forget  my  delightful  visit  at 


282  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

'Mountain  View',  nor  your  brave  act — what  a  debt  of 
gratitude  we  all  owe  you!" 

In  that  moment,  Bradshaw  had  a  glimpse  of  the  girl 
as  she  always  had  been  meant  to  be — free  from  even 
slightest  affectation  and  trace  of  hauteur,  which  she  had 
acquired  in  the  course  of  her  cosmopolitan  career. 

Norton  again  exacted  a  promise  from  Dan  that  he 
soon  would  come  to  Butte,  and  with  Walton,  Bradshaw 
merely  shook  hands,  both  gripping  tightly. 

The  departing  visitors  were  on  the  back  platform  of 
the  train  as  it  began  to  draw  away  from  the  depot,  Mary 
on  the  side  nearest  where  Dan  was  standing.  He  swung 
up  on  the  car  step  for  an  instant  and  she  held  out  her 
hand  to  him  for  a  final  clasp. 

Then  he  stood  watching  the  train,  waving  as  his 
friends  waved  to  him,  until  they  had  gone  from  his  sight. 

En  route  to  the  mine,  he  roused  himself  from  his 
thoughts  as  he  came  to  the  place  where  The  Arrow  had 
plunged  from  the  road  towards  the  embankment  and, 
stopping  his  automobile  there,  he  got  out  and  walked 
over  to  where  the  horse  had  gone  down. 

"Strange",  he  said  to  himself  as  his  eyes  searched 
the  ground,  "that  neither  Paddy  nor  Jackson  could  find 
where  I  threw  my  automatic.  I  should  have  bought  an- 
other one  before  coming  home  today — but  I'll  get  a  new 
one  tomorrow." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  GLEN 

Bradshaw  went  to  town  next  day  and  bought  a  new 
automatic  revolver,  for  though  he  had  ample  store  of 
firearms,  he  liked  the  kind  he  could  wear  in  his  flat 
holster  under  his  left  arm.  He  also  attended  to  other 
business,  and  before  he  left  for  his  return  trip  to  the 
mine,  he  went  to  a  telephone  booth  and  got  into  commu- 
nication with  Paddy  Skiff  with  whom  he  held  a  conver- 
sation of  some  minutes  duration. 

At  the  point  where  the  main  road  was  joined  by  the 
roadway  from  the  lower  camp,  a  solitary  horseman 
awaited  Bradshaw  who,  when  he  came  close  enough,  held 
up  his  hand  as  a  signal  that  he  recognized  Paddy  Skiff. 

"All  properly  fixed?"  asked  Bradshaw  as  he  stopped 
his  automobile  near  Paddy  and  got  out. 

By  way  of  reply,  Paddy  drew  back  the  left  side  of 
his  coat  for  an  instant  showing  the  handle  of  his  revol- 
ver, and  the  next  moment  staring  at  Bradshaw  with 
lower  jaw  slightly  sagging  in  surprise. 

"Yer  whiskers — yer  beard — ye've  shaved  it  off!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Yer  sure  enough  Dan  Bradshaw  again!" 

"That  I  am",  said  Dan.  "I  thought  it  was  time  to  get 
back  to  the  Bradshaw  part  of  the  name  for  keeps." 

"An*  then  that's  what  ye  meant  when  ye  sed  'Red 
Mike'  an'  his  two  shpalpeens  would  know  ye  alright?" 

"Exactly.    I  don't  want  them  to  have  the  slightest 


284  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

doubt  about  it.  Just  one  thing  more — if  you  feel  the 
least  hesitancy,  Paddy,  about  what  I  told  you  over  the 
telephone,  say  so  and  I'll  understand."  And  when  Paddy 
would  have  spoken,  Bradshaw  quickly  added,  "I  know 
perfectly  that  it  is  not  a  question  of  loyalty  or  bravery, 
Paddy  Skiff,  but  you  must  remember  too  that  there  is  a 
'Missus'  now  and" — 

"An*  I'm  proud  to  say"  Paddy  broke  in,  drawing  him- 
self up — "that  the  Missus  Pathrick  Skiff  would  disown 
me  if  she  thought  fer  a  moment  I  would  back  out  of  this 
proposition." 

That  point  having  been  definitely  settled,  Bradshaw 
turned  his  attention  to  the  business  at  hand. 

"Where  is  the  place?"  he  asked. 

"Not  far  from  the  main  road ;  over  in  a  gully." 

Paddy  dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree 
screened  by  a  clump  of  bushes. 

With  Paddy  as  guide,  the  men  made  their  way 
through  the  heavy  timber  and  finally  to  a  flat-bottomed 
gully  well  surrounded  with  trees  and  underbrush  and 
carpeted  with  springy  turf. 

At  a  small  camp-fire  near  the  center  of  the  hollow, 
half-reclined  three  figures. 

Bradshaw  and  Paddy  stepped  into  the  gully  and  cov- 
ered the  three  men  at  the  fire  with  their  revolvers  held 
slightly  extended  just  above  the  hip. 

"Throw  up  your  hands!"  Bradshaw  ordered  sharply 
as  the  three  sprang  to  their  feet. 

Two  of  the  men,  Wilkins  and  Snitch,  elevated  their 
hands  as  far  as  they  could  reach,  but  Vignon,  with  a 
snarl  that  drew  back  his  lips  from  his  teeth  as  would  an 
animal,  made  as  if  to  sweep  back  his  coat. 

"Put  'em  up,  Vignon — no  fooling!"  ordered  Brad- 
shaw in  a  tone  that  was  coolly  menacing,  and  reluctantly 


BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE  285 

the  other  raised  his  big,  gnarled  hands  to  the  height  of 
his  broad,  thick  shoulders. 

"Bradshaw!"  he  sneered,  "I  thought  it  was  you  when 
I  seen  Paddy  Skiff  an'  Jackson  an'  a  few  of  yer  other 
guys  'roun'  here — I  thought  so." 

"We  won't  discuss  your  thoughts  on  the  subject",  said 
Bradshaw  briskly.  "Paddy,  search  those  other  fellows." 

And  as  Paddy  Skiff  took  from  each  of  the  other  two 
a  cheap  revolver  of  bulldog  pattern,  Bradshaw  relieved 
Vignon  of  an  automatic. 

Bradshaw  and  Paddy  stepped  back. 

"Keep  them  covered  until  I  dispose  of  these  guns", 
said  Dan  to  Paddy,  and  Bradshaw  placed  his  own  weapon 
back  in  its  place.  He  took  the  two  bulldog  revolvers 
which  Paddy  handed  him,  emptied  out  their  bullets  and, 
tossing  them  on  the  ground,  turned  his  attention  to  the 
automatic  he  had  taken  from  Vignon. 

"So  you  found  my  gun",  he  remarked  to  "Red  Mike". 
He  slipped  it  into  his  pocket.  "Thanks  for  finding  it." 
Then  he  addressed  the  trio  of  Direct  Actionists.  "You 
fellows  can  put  your  hands  down  now",  which  they  pro- 
ceeded to  do,  Paddy  still  keeping  his  weapon  in  position 
for  quick  use  if  need  be.  "Now  you  fellows  listen  to  me", 
Bradshaw  continued.  "You  have  been  snooping  around 
this  place  entirely  too  long."  He  spoke  tensely  and  he 
fixed  Vignon  with  eyes  that  were  steady  and  fearless  be- 
neath lowered  brows.  "I  know  your  game  wherever  you 
go.  You've  had  just  about  long  enough  to  get  the  lay  of 
the  land  around  here  and  your  next  move  would  be  mis- 
chief. Your  request  of  Paddy  Skiff  for  work  and  your 
applying  down  at  the  lower  camp,  were  stalls — just 
bluffs.  You  don't  want  work  anywhere.  I  know  what 
you  want.  Some  of  the  men  in  this  camp,  who  know 
you,  have  complained  about  your  being  around  here.  If 


286  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

you  were  permitted  to  hang  around  here  they  might  take 
a  notion  to  get  busy  and  see  that  you  didn't." 

Vignon  was  still  scowling  at  him. 

"You  mean  they  think  they'd  run  us  out,  hey?  Well 
— we  ain't  the  runnin'  out  kind — see?" 

But  Bradshaw  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard  him. 

"The  purpose  of  this  little  meeting  is  this — You  fel- 
lows are  going  away  from  here.  That's  a  personal  prop- 
osition with  me.  As  far  as  you're  concerned,  Vignon,  I 
guess  your  Shanghai-ing  me  was  a  real  benefit  after  all, 
and  so  I'll  let  that  part  of  it  go.  But  you  and  these  two 
fellows  with  you  can't  stay  around  as  close  to  my  place 
as  this." 

Wilkins  and  Snitch  kept  glancing  at  Vignon,  evi- 
dently preferring  to  let  him  be  the  spokesman  for  them. 

"Very  kind  of  you",  sneered  Vignon,  "to  tell  us  what 
we  kin  an'  can't  do,  Mister  Bradshaw",  emphasizing  the 
"Mister"  sarcastically.  "When  you  was  hot-footin' 
'round  Carty's  you  wasn'  such  a  high-flier,  but  now" — 

Bradshaw  curtly  interrupted  him. 

"I  don't  want  your  talk.  I'm  trying  to  give  you  the 
best  of  it  by  handling  your  case  myself  instead  of  letting 
the  men  at  the  mine  take  it  up  and  give  you  some  real 
rough  treatment.  I'll  go  this  far — I'll  see  that  you're 
not  molested  and  that  you  are  given  a  ride  down  to  the 
depot  in  town.  I'll  buy  each  of  you  a  ticket  to  Butte  or 
Spokane  and  give  you  each  twenty-five  dollars  for  ex- 
penses on  the  way." 

These  words  brought  a  half-smile  to  Snitch's  face  as 
if  the  plan  appealed  to  him.  But  Wilkins,  taking  his  cue 
from  Vignon,  continued  his  surly  look. 

As  for  Vignon,  he  thrust  forward  his  evil  face  and 
fairly  spat  out  his  words. 

"Keep  yer  damn  money",  he  snarled.    "You  ain't  man 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  287 

'nough  to  run  me  off.  You  never  was  man  'nough  to  do 
anythin'  with  me.  You  sucked  'round  bosses  in  Butte. 
You  thought  you  was  somethin'  in  the  League  but  you 
wasn'.  You  hung  'round  Klemner's" — 

But  he  paused  in  his  tirade  when  he  saw  Bradshaw 
throw  off  his  coat  and  hat  and  unbuckle  his  holster  and 
hand  it  to  Paddy  Skiff. 

"Now  Mr.  'Red  Mike'  Vignon",  Dan  said,  rolling  up 
the  sleeves  of  his  blue  flannel  shirt,  "you've  reached  the 
end  of  your  rope."  He  addressed  his  next  words  to 
Paddy,  but  did  not  take  his  eyes  off  Vignon.  "Paddy, 
see  that  there's  no  interference  from  those  two  bums" — 
Snitch  smiled  broadly  at  that  and  was  evidently  pleased 
at  the  prospect  of  some  excitement,  while  Wilkins 
scowled  the  more — "and  Mister  'Red  Mike',  Direct  Ac- 
tionist  Dynamiter  Vignon" — he  seemed  to  want  to  sting 
Vignon  with  his  words — "and  I'll  get  busy."  He  took  a 
step  forward  towards  Vignon.  "I  call  your  bluff — or  I'll 
slap  your  face  and  kick  you  out  of  here." 

Vignon  sv/ore,  threw  his  hat  on  the  ground  and  fol- 
lowed it  with  his  coat  and  holster. 

Paddy  motioned  to  Wilkins  and  Snitch  to  move  back 
and  he,  himself,  did  likewise,  leaving  Bradshaw  and  Vig- 
non facing  each  other  for  battle. 

Response  to  the  battle  call  is  more  or  less  inherent  in 
all  human  beings.  And  they  all  fight — each  and  every 
one  of  them  when  the  fight  response  comes  crashing 
through  veneer  of  patience,  training  and  reasoning  re- 
straint. It  is  said  that  even  the  self-abasing  worm  will 
turn  to  show  its  mite  of  fighting  valor  at  a  certain  point. 

And  whereas  the  cave-man  might  have  sprung  to 
unreasoning,  maddened  fighting  at  merely  slight  provo- 
cation, his  male  descendents  manifest  much  of  that  sort 
of  disregard  for  consequences  when  once  they  have  been 


288  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

sufficiently  aroused  and  the  fighting  response  comes. 

Vignon,  illiterate,  uncouth,  with  cave-man  propensity 
to  hate  and  fight  very  near  the  surface,  was  the  kind  to 
plunge  into  battle  with  blind,  ferocious,  unreasoning 
anger. 

Bradshaw,  educated,  trained,  and  with  the  cave-man 
inclination  to  hate  and  fight  very  much  deeper  from  the 
surface,  was  the  kind  to  plunge  into  battle  with  keen, 
ferocious  but  reasoning  anger. 

The  fight  of  these  two  men  in  the  tree-shaded,  brush- 
guarded,  flat-bottomed  gully  was  one  of  definite  purpose. 
No  desire  here  to  score  technical  points  by  reason  of  box- 
ing art,  but  to  land  jarring,  hurtful,  crushing  blows — to 
punish,  disable. 

A  man  like  Vignon  might  have  been  escorted  away 
from  the  place  at  the  point  of  guns.  He  might 
have  been  imprisoned.  He  even  might  have  been 
lushed  at  a  whipping-post.  And  still  his  fighting 
spirit  would  not  have  been  broken — he  still  would  have 
returned  brazen,  defiant  and  as  dangerous  as  ever  to  the 
very  place  from  which  he  had  been  driven.  But  brutish 
though  he  was,  defiant  and  dangerous,  he  was  instinc- 
tively cognizant  of  that  unwritten  code,  which  has  it  that 
a  man  beaten  in  a  fair,  stand-up  fist  fight  is  in  a  way  duty 
bound,  though  his  spirit  still  may  remain  unbroken,  his 
fighting  ability  still  good  and  his  status  as  a  man  and 
f  ghter  still  unimpaired,  to  accede  to  the  wish  of  the  man 
\/ho  has  defeated  him  with  regard  to  whatever  question 
is  at  issue. 

So  Vignon  recognized,  as  did  the  others  there,  that  if 
Bradshaw  was  his  conqueror,  he  would  have  to  do  as 
Bradshaw  had  said  he  must — and  go.  Thus  he  would 
obey  a  code  that  is  one  of  those  vague,  illogical  and  yet 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  289 

powerful  laws  of  man-nature,  smacking,  perhaps,  of  a 
certain  kind  of  chivalry. 

As  for  Bradshaw — he  was  that  sort  of  man  who  does 
not  want  any  other  to  face  a  danger  in  his  behalf  that 
he,  himself,  would  be  unwilling  to  confront.  His  peculiar 
advantage  over  his  antagonist  was  that  finer  courage 
which  Vignon  did  not  possess  and  which  really  is  more 
than  physical  prowess. 

Bradshaw,  in  an  easy  yet  sufficiently  tense  boxer's 
pose,  was  ready  with  right  and  left  fists. 

Vignon  stood  more  solidly  planted  and  evidently  in- 
tending to  utilize  ponderous,  crushing  swings. 

A  trim  built  athlete,  who  once  won  reputation  as  a 
boxer,  declared  that  his  method  of  defeating  a  larger, 
stronger  and  slower  opponent,  was  to  make  him  miss, 
the  theory  being  that  the  larger  man  would  wear  himself 
out  through  his  own  exertions. 

Bradshaw  followed  a  similar  method  for  an  interval. 
Suddenly  he  feinted  at  Vignon's  face  and  avoided  a  heavy 
right-arm  swing  by  a  turn  of  his  head,  but  Vignon  exe- 
cuted a  trick  for  which  Bradshaw  might  well  have  been 
prepared  had  he  not  been  too  intent  on  countering. 
Vignon  crashed  his  right  fist  with  a  back-hand  swing 
against  Bradshaw's  head  that  would  have  ended  the  fight 
had  it  landed  a  trifle  lower.  Bradshaw  stepped  back, 
shaking  his  head  to  clear  it  and  then  returned  to  the 
combat.  Dan  jabbed,  countered  and  used  uppercut  tac- 
tics with  all  the  scientific  precision  he  could  command. 
Vignon  tried  to  make  effective  all  his  rough-and-tumble 
methods  in  which  he  was  well  versed  and  which  had 
made  him  a  feared  saloon-fighter  in  Butte. 

And  as  surely  as  the  one  man  was  superior  in  mental- 
ity, in  fine  courage  and  determination  to  the  other,  so 
surely  did  Bradshaw  begin  to  inflict  grueling  punish- 


290  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

ment  on  the  desperate  Vignon.  The  blows  he  landed 
were  not  wide-swung,  but  were  delivered  with  a  snap 
that  cut  and  bruised.  The  very  fact  that  Vignon  began 
glancing  to  one  side  and  the  other  as  if  almost  at  bay 
and  seeking  outside  help  he  knew  not  from  where,  was 
an  indication  to  Dan  that  the  fight  was  coming  to  an  end. 
Bradshaw,  eager  to  terminate  the  battle,  repeatedly  bat- 
tered Vignon's  jaw,  trying  to  connect  with  that  certain 
point  that  is  vulnerable  even  to  the  impact  of  a  light  fist. 
Vignon  tried  to  clinch  Bradshaw  around  the  neck,  but 
Dan  avoided  him.  Then  the  miner  made  as  if  to  go  into 
a  clinch  with  Vignon  and,  as  the  latter  raised  his  arms 
again,  Bradshaw  stepped  forward  with  his  right  foot 
simultaneously  sending  in  his  right  fist  just  below  Vig- 
non's left  shoulder — just  enough  of  a  blow  to  send  the 
other  slightly  off  his  balance,  that  being  Bradshaw' s  pur- 
pose in  using  this  shift.  In  the  instant  when  Vignon 
was  recovering  his  equilibrium,  Bradshaw,  with  a  force- 
ful swing  of  his  body,  whipped  over  his  almost  fully  ex- 
tended left  arm,  and  his  left  fist  landed  solidly  on  the 
very  point  of  Vignon's  jaw  which  jarred  the  heavy  man 
from  head  to  foot,  sending  a  paralysis  along  the  nerves 
to  his  brain  and  toppling  him  over. 

Vignon  was  not  unconscious  and,  beyond  a  slight 
stiffness  of  the  lower  jar,  was  himself  again  physically 
in  a  moment  or  two  after  striking  the  ground,  but  he 
did  not  rise. 

"Get  up,  Vignon",  commanded  Bradshaw  breathing 
deeply  in  what  he  thought  was  only  to  be  an  interval  of 
rest. 

Vignon  did  not  get  up  even  then,  but  raised  himself 
slowly  on  an  elbow. 

"Well — what  d'ya  want?"  he  growled  sullenly.  It 
was  his  admission  of  defeat. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  291 

Wilkins  scowled  as  before,  but  Snitch  laughed. 

"Hell — the  yellah's  showin'  in  him",  Snitch  re- 
marked. Then  with  much  disgust,  "I  taut  dare  wuz  yel- 
lah  in  him."  And  to  Bradshaw,  "I  got  tuh  give  it  tuh 
yuh  agin — yer  a  all  right  guy.  Dat  big  stiff",  pointing 
to  Vignon,  "he  ain't." 

Bradshaw  laughed  shortly  and  turned  to  Paddy  Skiff 
who  had  put  away  his  revolver. 

"Well— I  guess  that's  all",  said  Dan.  Then  to  Vig- 
non, "You  don't  have  to  lie  there  for  the  rest  of  the 
day." 

Vignon  got  up  slowly,  picked  up  his  hat,  coat  and 
holster  and  darted  a  malignant  look  at  Snitch. 

"Do  we  get  our  guns  back?"  asked  Wilkins. 

"Not  so  as  you  can  notice  it",  Bradshaw  curtly  in- 
formed him,  picking  up  his  hat  and  coat. 

"Say — let  me  have  mine",  requested  Snitch.  "I'm  tru 
wid  dat  big  stiff" — indicating  Vignon  with  a  contempt- 
uous jerk  of  his  thumb  while  'Red  Mike'  glowered  at  him 
— "an'  I  wan'  tuh  beat  it  fer  th'  railroad  alone  an'  not 
take  no  chansis  wid  him  an'  dis  fellah",  indicating  Wil- 
kins. 

"Give  him  his  gun,  Paddy",  said  Bradshaw. 

Paddy  took  one  of  the  bulldog  revolvers  from  the 
ground  and  gave  it  to  Snitch. 

"T'anks",  said  Snitch  pocketing  the  weapon.  "I  feel 
better  now." 

"Just  a  minute",  and  Bradshaw  took  a  wallet  from 
the  inside  pocket  of  his  coat  and  extracted  two  bills  from 
it,  holding  the  currency  out  to  Snitch.    "Take  these,  and 
I  would  suggest  that  you  leave  now." 
Snitch  grinned  and  took  the  money. 
"I'll  blow  fer  town — I  feel  bettern'  ever",  and  soon 
he  was  lost  to  sight  among  the  trees. 


292  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

Some  hours  later  he  did  not  feel  so  well. 

Vignon  and  Wilkins  came  up  with  him  at  a  lonely 
water  tank  where  he  was  waiting  the  coming  of  a  Butte 
bound  freight  train  and  they  despoiled  him  of  the  bull- 
dog revolver  and  his  money,  leaving  him  beaten  and 
bruised  behind  the  water  tank  when  they  swung  aboard 
the  freight  train  that  stopped  there  half  an  hour  later. 

"Here  you",  said  Vignon  to  Wilkins  as  they  crouched 
in  an  empty  cattle  car,  'put  this  in  yer  shoe",  and  he 
handed  him  one  of  the  bills.  "I'll  keep  the  other  one  an' 
this  gat" — he  took  the  squat,  bulldog  revolver  partly 
from  a  side  pocket  of  his  coat  and  let  it  drop  back  in 
again — "I'll  keep  fer  fuchure  ref'rence." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
DREAMS  AND  THE  GIRL 

On  the  very  first  night  of  their  return  home,  Mary 
Norton  told  her  brother  of  the  incidents  that  had  led  up 
to  the  affair  of  The  Arrow. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Why  you  plucky  little  thing !"  he  exclaimed  over  and 
over  again.  "And  to  think  Tharny — of  all  men,  Tharny ! 
It's  amazing — simply  amazing!  Well,  that  settles  Mr. 
Tharny !" 

And  the  next  evening  when  Tharny,  perfectly 
groomed,  at  his  best  in  manner,  and  carrying  a  box  of 
roses,  rang  the  doorbell  of  the  Norton  home,  he  was 
shown  into  the  library  where  Norton  awaited  him. 

From  that  interview,  Tharny  went  an  astonished  and 
a  bitterly  enraged  man.  Never  again  would  he  see  the 
interior  of  the  Norton  home. 

*         *         *         *         * 

When  Dan  Bradshaw  stood  in  Walton's  office  one 
morning,  about  two  weeks  later,  there  was  nothing  other 
than  the  healthful  and  becoming  bronze  of  his  face  to 
indicate  that  he  had  been  spending  so  many  of  his  days 
in  the  open  among  the  mountains,  for  now,  in  place  of 
his  mountain  costume,  he  was  trim  in  his  well-fitting 
suit  of  gray  which,  so  the  newspaperman  remarked  as 
he  took  in  Dan  from  his  smart  shoes  to  his  neat  blue  tie, 
not  omitting  notice  of  the  gray  Fedora  hat  he  held  in  his 


294  BOKN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE 

hand  together  with  his  gray  kid-gloves,  made  him  a 
splendid  advertisement  for  whoever  his  tailor  might  be. 

"So  I  can't  prevail  on  you  to  linger  here  a  few  mo- 
ments more?"  asked  Walton.  "Supposing  then  that  you 
come  back  in  an  hour  and  we  have  lunch  together." 

"Agreed.  Meantime  I'll  go  and  attend  to  that  busi- 
ness I  have  on  hand." 

The  business  to  which  Bradshaw  referred  took  him  to 
a  telephone  booth  from  which  he  put  in  a  call  for  the 
Norton  residence. 

To  the  maid  who  answered,  Dan  stated  he  would  like 
to  speak  to  Miss  Norton,  requesting  the  maid  to  say  that 
a  friend  from  the  mountains  was  at  the  telephone.  As 
the  maid  carried  his  message  to  Mary  Norton,  the  heart 
of  this  man,  who  had  met  and  overcome  some  mighty 
strenuous  obstacles  and  who  even  with  scarcely  a  qualm 
had  fought  a  man  to  a  finish  in  a  mountain  gully,  accel- 
erated its  pace,  especially  when,  quite  unexpectedly,  a 
clear  voice  of  a  quality  that  always  stirred  him  deeply, 
came  to  him. 

"And  so  you  have  taken  sufficient  time  to  leave  your 
mountains",  she  said,  after  they  had  exchanged  greet- 
ings. 

"I  had  meant  to  be  here  some  time  ago",  he  declared, 
"but  there  were  things  that  conspired  to  detain  me.  But 
tell  me,  what  is  far  more  important  than  anything  else — 
How  are  you?" 

"Just  splendid.    And  you?" 

"As  well  as  ever.    And  your  brother?" 

"His  usual  good  self.  DeWitt  is  in  Anaconda  today, 
but  I  think  he  will  be  back  on  the  night  train.  When 
am  I  going  to  see  you?" 

"That  is  what  I  called  up  to  find  out.  Can  it  be  this 
afternoon?" 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  295 

"At  two." 

"At  two,  then." 

When  they  had  ended  their  telephonic  conversation, 
Dan  first  went  to  a  florist's  from  where,  presently,  was 
sent  to  the  Norton  home  a  box  of  Mary's  favorite  pink 
roses  and  violets,  after  which  he  attended  to  other  mat- 
ters, and  then  proceeded  to  the  newspaper  office. 

Dan  and  Walton  lunched  and,  for  a  time  thereafter, 
the  miner  visited  with  his  friend  in  the  latter's  sanctum. 

"Never  get  tired  of  telling  you  how  good  you  look  to 
me  as  your  former  self",  Walton  said,  eyeing  the  other 
closely  and  with  that  look  of  fraternal  regard  which 
showed  his  feeling  for  Bradshaw.  "By  the  way — how 
will  the  mining  world  take  the  acquisition  of  the  M.  N., 
by  Daniel  Bradshaw?" 

"The  mining  world,  as  you  call  it,  if  it  thinks  of  it  at 
all,  will  not  know  whether  Robinson  Crusoe  sold  the 
mine  to  Daniel  Bradshaw,  or  if  said  Bradshaw  seized  the 
mine  a  long  time  ago,  or  if  Williams  sold  out,  or  what. 
The  boys  at  the  mine,  if  they  noticed  it  at  all,  didn't  care 
whether  I  had  a  beard  or  not,  and  as  for  the  grievance 
committee,  consisting  of  three  of  the  miners  Jackson 
originally  brought  to  the  place  with  him — they  got  on  to 
the  fact  some  weeks  ago  that  Williams  and  Bradshaw 
were  one  and  the  same,  and  they  didn't  even  comment  on 
it.  They  seemed  to  think  the  use  of  the  name  of  Wil- 
liams was  merely  a  matter  of  mine  business  convenience, 
just  as  some  firms  use  the  names  of  persons  no  longer 
connected  with  those  enterprises  in  any  way." 

"That's  right",  said  Walton.  "Many  persons  think 
there  is  a  Van  Stanley  of  the  so-called  Van  Stanley  inter- 
ests when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  name  always  is  signed 
per  somebody  else,  for  the  Van  Stanley  of  that  big  con- 
cern is  Mr.  Walter  Blumenshein,"  He  looked  keenly  at 


296  BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE 

Bradshaw.    "Anyhow,  there  is  no  one  to  whom  you  need 
make  the  slightest  apology  about  it." 

Dan  smiled  at  him. 

"Explanation,  perhaps,  but  apology — never!"  He 
arose  from  the  comfortable  leather  office  chair  and 
picked  up  his  hat  and  gloves.  "Until  we  meet  again",  he 
said  with  a  slight  bow  to  Walton  who  was  leaning  back 
in  his  swivel  chair  looking  at  him. 

But  astute  as  was  the  newspaperman,  he  did  not  be- 
gin to  guess  that  beneath  the  seeming  self-possession  of 
this  erect  and  most  pleasing  appearing  man  before  him, 
there  was  a  tumult  of  emotion  actuating  a  strongly 
pumping  heart. 

*        *        *        •        « 

The  deep-toned  chime  of  the  Grandfather's  clock  in 
the  reception  hall  of  the  Norton  home  was  indicating  the 
hour  of  two  o'clock  when  Bradshaw  rang  the  door-bell. 

Presently  he  was  standing  looking  out  of  a  window 
of  the  drawing-room,  while  the  maid  went  to  inform 
Mary  of  his  arrival.  At  the  moment  of  entering  the 
room  he  had  noted  that  the  flowers  he  had  sent  her 
were  arranged  in  several  vases. 

Came  the  sound  of  a  door  closing  and  the  light  step 
of  a  woman.  He  turned  to  behold  her,  a  vision  of  loveli- 
ness in  a  cool,  pink  linen  dress,  girlishly  made  as  befitted 
her,  and  at  the  waist  some  of  his  violets.  Her  hair  was 
parted  slightly  at  one  side  and  waved  back,  as  he  best 
liked  it,  to  a  loose  and  gracefully  arranged  knot. 

She  came  forward  with  hand  extended  to  welcome 
him,  as  he,  too,  stepped  to  meet  her,  when  she  caught  full 
view  of  his  face  and  paused,  uncertain  and  surprised. 
Her  hand  fell  to  her  side. 

"Why — I — I — "  she  began  and  hesitated. 

His  direct  look  met  hers. 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  297 

"You  are  not  mistaken",  he  said  quietly,  and  though 
she  knew  the  tone  of  his  voice  as  that  of  the  mountain 
man,  she  studied  him  intently  and  waited  for  him  to  con- 
tinue. 

"Miss  Norton,  I  am  D.  Williams  and  I  am  Dan  Brad- 
shaw." 

"Yes,  I  see",  she  said  with  the  admirable  self-control 
characteristic  of  her,  "that  you  are  Dan — Mr.  Brad- 
shaw." 

It  was  as  if  she  were  pondering  for  a  fleeting  mo- 
ment why  she  had  not  seen  that  before,  but  then  she  only 
had  met  Dan  Bradshaw,  as  the  man  of  that  name,  three 
times,  and  at  each  of  those  times  for  a  brief  period.  She 
remembered  Dan  Bradshaw  best  as  she  had  seen  him  up 
on  the  mine  road  above  Carty's  two  years  before,  and 
recognize  him  now  she  most  certainly  did. 

"Are  you  sorry?"  he  asked  gently. 

The  pink  rose  hue  of  her  cheeks  deepened,  and  it 
might  have  been  that  the  girl  had  an  undefined  feeling 
of  gladness  in  knowing  that  the  man  of  the  mine  road 
and  the  man  of  the  mountains  were  one  and  the  same. 

"It  is  all  so — so — "  she  began. 

"I  know",  he  said.  "It  is  melodramatic  and  bewilder- 
ing, but  it  had  to  be  told." 

"Yes,  that  is  true",  she  said,  and  while  there  still  was 
a  questioning  look  in  her  eyes,  on  her  lips  was  a  faint 
trace  of  smile,  more  a  wistfulness  not  without  pathetic 
appeal,  with  which  the  girl  conveyed  to  him  the  thought 
that  he  had  wounded  her  pride  deeply,  perhaps  not  so 
much  because  of  the  subterfuge  he  had  thought  neces- 
sary in  gaining  her  friendship  by  a  change  of  name,  as 
by  failing  to  acknowledge  her  womanly  discrimination 
and  ability  to  judge  his  real  merit. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  why  it  had  to  be  done",  he  went 


298  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

on,  holding  her  closely  attentive  by  the  quiet  power  in 
his  tone  and  his  direct  look. 

She  placed  a  hand  lightly  at  her  throat. 

"Was  it  necessary — to — not  to  have  told  me  before?" 
she  asked,  looking  at  him  bravely.  "I  think  I  would  have 
understood,  and  I  would  have  been — truthworthy." 

"You  hurt  me  when  you  say  that",  he  declared.  "I 
want  to  tell  you  why,  if  I  can.  I  don't  just  know  how  to 
say  it — I  am  fearfully  bunglesome.  Won't  you  sit  down 
and  let  me  tell  you  ?" 

"I  will",  she  answered  with  a  little  nod,  and  seated 
herself  on  a  divan  so  that  he  continued  facing  her,  his 
hand  resting  on  the  back  of  the  chair  beside  him. 

"You  don't  want  me  to  wade  through  a  lot  of  story, 
I  know",  he  said,  speaking  rather  quickly  and  as  intently 
as  before.  "You  doubtless  guessed  what  I  was  when — 
you  first  saw  me,  and  there  was  nothing  dishonorable, 
about  me  then — I  can  assure  you  of  that.  I  was  a  hard 
working  mucker  in  a  mine.  I  needed  work  and  I  needed 
opportunity  for  other  things  too — I  would  like  to  tell 
you  all  about  them  sometime — I  know  you  would  under- 
stand. And  I  would  like  to  tell  you  all  about  my  boy- 
hood in  California  and  of  my  people" — he  held  his  head 
up  proudly — "they  were  of  the  best.  I  would  like  to  tell 
you  of  my  Uncle  Sim  and  Aunt  Ruth,  I  call  them,  though 
they  are  not  related  to  me — who  brought  me  up  and  sent 
me  to  college;  of  my  years  after  that — hard  working 
and  cheerless  days  on  a  cattle  boat  and  in  other  hard 
places,  and  of  my  coming  to  Butte  to  work — onward  and 
upward.  And  I  can't  tell  you — it  would  be  too  long  and 
you  wouldn't  want  to  hear  now  of  my — my  career  here 
and  what  came  of  it.  But  I  will  tell  you  how  I  came  to 
leave  Butte — because  I  was  hit  on  the  head  and  thrown 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  299 

into  a  box  car  and  run  out — just  as  if  I  were — well,  I 
had  just  about  struck  the  bottom,  I  guess." 

He,  seemingly,  had  no  desire  to  spare  himself. 

"Then  I  came  to  where  I  was  near  the  mountains — 
my  mountains,  I  call  them  now.  I  think  you  know  some- 
thing of  what  has  happened  since  then.  I  wanted  to 
fight  my  way  up  with  a  fair  chance,  unhampered  by  any 
possible  obstacles,  and  so  I  became  D.  Williams — the  Wil- 
liams part  is  my  middle  name — and  always  with  the  in- 
tention of  telling  you  all  about  it  if  the  time  ever  came 
when  I  could  do  so.  And  the  time  has  come.  How  could 
I  have  come  to  know  you  as  I  have,  had  I  gone  on  as  Dan 
Bradshaw?  Don't  you  see?  Surely  you  do.  Your 
brother  would  never  have  permitted  it.  I  know  men — 
they  honor  other  men  who  make  good,  and  real  men  like 
your  brother  overlook  past  mistakes  too — but  even  he, 
with  all  his  broad-mindedness,  would  have  fought  shy  of 
me,  I  think,  at  least  to  the  extent  of  not  letting  me  be- 
come a  friend  of  his  sister  and  thus  one  to  be  welcomed 
at  his  home." 

"I  don't  think  that",  the  girl  said  in  a  low  tone. 

He  took  a  short  step  nearer  to  her,  looking  down  at 
her  slightly  bowed  head. 

"From  the  time  on  the  mine  road  up  there  on  the  Hill 
— you've  been  the  one  and  only  girl"  and  while  he  spoke 
gently  and  smiled,  there  was  a  tenseness  to  his  jaw. 
"You  are  the  realization  of  all  my  dreams  of  the  ideal 
woman.  When  I  was  unworthy  even  to  think  of  you,  you 
were  the  influence  that  was  impelling  me  towards  my 
best.  You  are  my  best  influence  now.  I've  tried  to 
climb  up  to  you  from  the  very  depths.  Up  there  in  the 
mountains — I  can't  tell  you  what  I  want  to  say  about 
what  the  thought  of  you  meant  to  me  in  those  days.  I 
worked  early  and  late — even  in  an  irrigation  ditch — to 


300  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

get  money  for  a  grubstake,  so  I  could  go  into  the  hills. 
Why — the  dreaming  and  the  hoping  even  made  it  pos- 
sible for  me  to  state  my  mining  plans  boldly  to  a  banker 
in  his  own  private  office  and  your  kindly  influence  must 
have  been  with  me  and  for  me,  because  he  listened  to  me 
and  favored  my  request." 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

"Mr.  Bradshaw,  I  indeed  feel  I  owe  you  a  great  debt 
of  gratitude" — but  he  would  not  let  her  proceed. 

I  know  what  you  want  to  say,  but  I  cannot  listen  to 
your  telling  me  you  owe  me  anything,  when  it  is  all 
so  much  the  other  way  around,  and  I  owe  everything  to 
you." 

"But  you  are  successful",  she  said.  "You  have  arrived 
at  where  you  more  than  ever  are  assured  of  your  place 
in  the  world,  not  only  because  of  your  mining  success, 
but  because  of  your  wonderful  mine  cage  invention." 

In  his  masculine  blindness  he  did  not  realize  that  the 
girl  was  clinging  to  that  great  and  wonderful  attribute 
with  which  womankind  blesses  man — the  never  weary- 
ing desire  to  give  her  best  thought  to  him,  to  give  him 
actual  aid.  It  is  the  mother  instinct.  Had  he  come  to 
her  the  same  clean  and  upright  man  he  was,  but  having 
recently  failed  to  win  success  or  having  been  disappoint- 
ed in  some  great  and,  to  him,  vital  enterprise,  she 
might  have  yielded  on  the  instant  to  his  entreaty  so  that 
she  could  confer  her  womanly  solace  on  him,  take  him 
within  the  shelter  of  her  arms  as  a  woman  does  a 
bruised,  hurt  boy,  and  re-inspire  him.  The  man,  in  the 
full  vigor  of  his  fighting  strength  and  strong  mentality, 
likes  to  go  forth  to  fight  in  life's  battles  for  the  woman 
he  loves — he  wants  to  be  the  provider,  the  killer  of  deer 
for  her.  But  what  of  his  vaunted  strength  and  his  men- 
tality when  his  spirit  weakens,  when  his  courage  falters 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  301 

and  he  is  confused  by  the  rebuffs  of  the  world?  Then 
the  faith  of  the  woman  revives  him,  just  as  her  soft 
hands  minister  to  him,  and  he  goes  forth  again  to  fight 
the  good  fight,  stimulated  and  hopeful. 

So  it  was  that  this  girl  wanted  to  know,  to  find  out 
what  she  thought  it  her  womanly  right  to  know — Would 
this  man  who,  with  the  thought  of  her,  as  he  said,  to  in- 
spire him,  had  won  his  way  up  out  of  the  depths — would 
he  still  need  her  as  an  inspiration,  was  she  still  so  vital 
to  him? 

And  then  he  stumbled  blindly,  but  happily  into  the 
right  course. 

"It  was  to  win  your  approval  that  I  have  worked  up 
to  what  you  say  is  something  of  a  worthy  success",  he 
said.  "I  loved  you  that  day  up  on  the  mine  road,  and 
ever  since  you  have  become  more  and  more  precious  to 
me.  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  you've  been  in  my 
thoughts.  Why  the  M.  N.  mine  is  named  for  you — those 
letters  mean  Mary  Norton.  I  need  you  more  than  ever. 
Do  you  want  to  send  me  out  to  keep  on  alone  and  so  undo 
all  the  good  you  have  done  for  me?"  Then  suddenly. 
"Will  you  marry  me?" 

The  girl  arose,  and  there  was  that  in  her  eyes  that 
made  him  want  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  crush  her  to 
him,  to  try  to  compel  her  love  that  way  if  no  other. 

"I  won't  say  it — it  is  so  sudden.    I — "  she  hesitated. 

And  because  he  was  very  much  a  man,  he  remained 
standing  just  as  he  was,  instead  of  doing  as  every  fiber 
in  him  prompted. 

"Listen,  Mary  Norton",  he  said  with  half-smiling  ten- 
derness, "if  I  had  not  had  to  come  here  to  surprise  and 
perhaps  shock  you  with  what  I  had  to  say  of  myself,  and 
make  it  all  appear  so  strange  to  you,  I  know  you  would 
have  told  me  before  I  left  here,  just  what  is  in  your 


302  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

heart  concerning  me — whether  it  would  be  yes  or  no,  but 
I  won't  ask  for  your  answer  right  now.  I  want  you  to 
think  of  what  I  have  said  and  I  am  coming  tomorrow  for 
what  you  will  tell  me,  Mary." 

He  spoke  her  name  so  softly  she  scarcely  heard  it, 
and  he  resolutely  turned  from  her,  for  the  ineffable 
sweetness  of  the  girl,  the  look  in  her  eyes  and  the  almost 
wistful  smile  on  her  lips  nearly  made  him  cast  aside  all 
his  restraint. 

But  he  did  not  come  on  the  morrow,  much  as  at  that 
moment  he  really  thought  he  would. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
CRUNCH  PAYS 

At  Carty's  saloon,  Vignon  leaned  against  the  bar  and 
snarled  his  protests  against  humanity  in  general  and 
certain  individuals  in  particular,  while  Wilkins,  scowl- 
ing as  ever,  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  "Red  Mike's"  talk. 

"They're  all  no  good",  Vignon  was  declaring.  "Brad- 
shaw,  damn  four-flusher,  is  wurs'  en  any  of  'em.  I'll  git 
that  guy  en  git  'im  good — I'll  git  'im  good." 

"Wen  yuh  ketch  'im",  said  Wilkins  sneeringly. 

"Yeh,  when  I  ketch  'im." 

Carty,  walking  behind  the  bar,  stopped  opposite 
them. 

"Lissen  here  you  two",  he  commanded.  "Git  away 
from  this  bar.  Get  me  ?" 

Vignon  leered  at  him. 

"That's  what  I  said",  Carty  continued,  pointing  a 
finger  straight  at  Vignon.  "You  go",  he  ordered. 

"I'll  git  you  too",  muttered  Vignon,  but  he  turned 
away  from  the  bar,  as  did  Wilkins. 

"In  a  minute  I'll  kick  you  out  of  here",  Carty 
shouted  after  them,  and  various  men  in  the  place  turned 
to  look  at  the  slouching  Vignon,  and  to  such  a  status  had 
he  fallen  that  among  all  there  not  one  so  low  as  would 
do  him  homage. 

"I  'spose  yuh'll  wait  till  yuh  ketch  Carty,  too",  Wil- 
kins said  in  his  sneering  way  as  Vignon  and  he  dropped 


304 BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE 

into  chairs  at  a  table  against  the  wall  opposite  the  bar 
and  away  from  the  other  tables. 

"Say,  you  bum",  growled  Vignon,  directing  his  dis- 
pleasure at  his  henchman,  "yer  gittin'  th'  fresh  habit  too. 
Keep  it  up,  just  keep  it  up  is  all  I  ask,  en  see  what  hap- 
pins." 

"Luk  here,  Vignon",  returned  the  other,  striking  the 
table  with  his  fist  and  showing  more  spirit  toward  "Red 
Mike"  than  ever  he  would  have  dared  in  prior  times,  "I 
seen  yuh  show  th'  yellah  streak — Bradshaw  made  yuh 
show  it.  A  guy  wid  a  yellah  streak  can't  han'  nawthin' 
tuh  me.  Ev'rybody  is  on  tuh  yuh  now.  I'm  tryin'  tun 
tell  yuh  fer  yer  own  good." 

Vignon  half  rose  from  his  chair. 

"Why  you  bum,  you — say  I  got  a  good  mind  to  teach 
you  a  lessin." 

"Yeh  an'  yuh  got  a  good  mind  not  tuh,  too",  said  Wil- 
kins  in  no  wise  perturbed,  and  the  other  sank  back  on 
his  chair. 

At  this  moment  came  a  diversion  in  the  approach  of 
Crunch.  The  new  suit  which  Walton  recently  had  bought 
for  him  was  in  sad  condition,  and  he  had  only  a  few  dol- 
lars left  of  the  last  remittance  Bradshaw  had  sent  him 
by  the  newspaperman. 

Vignon  broke  into  a  coarse  laugh  and  hailed  Crunch 
with  sarcastic  tone. 

"Ha — here's  ol'  'len'  me  yer  ears'.  Say  ol'  'len'  me 
yer  ears ;'  goin'  to  treat  today  ?" 

Crunch  fixed  him  with  serious  eye  and  replied  with 
haughty  demeanor. 

"I  don't  treat  with  one  of  your  ilk." 

"My  what?"  demanded  Vignon. 

"Your  ilk." 

"I'll  ilk  you",  bellowed  Vignon  throwing  himself  on 


BORN  OF  THE   CRUCIBLE  305 

Crunch,  who,  with  utterly  unlocked  for  agility  and  no 
lack  of  courage,  tried  to  fight  back.  But  Vignon's  very 
bulk  bore  him  to  the  floor  and  Crunch  was  in  fair  way 
of  being  badly  pounded  had  not  Wilkins,  deciding  to 
enter  the  combat,  struck  at  Vignon.  "Red  Mike"  swung 
at  Wilkins  and,  in  the  ensuing  melee,  Vignon,  Wilkins 
and  Crunch  rolled  on  the  floor  together,  while  the  other 
patrons  in  the  saloon  formed  a  hasty  circle  about  them. 

The  experienced  Carty  ran  to  the  door  and  blew 
shrilly  on  a  police  whistle.  Then  he  hastened  to  the 
combatants  and  endeavored  to  pacify  them  with  rough 
kicks  and  emphatic  words.  His  way  was  effective,  for 
the  fighting  had  practically  come  to  an  end  when  two 
policemen  arrived,  and  only  feelings  were  being  injured 
by  the  unabated  fire-edged  repartee  that  was  flying  back 
and  forth  between  the  recent  warriors. 

The  police  took  charge  of  the  situation  and  of  Vig- 
non, Crunch  and  Wilkins. 

"Run  'em  all  in — do  'em  good",  said  Carty  to  one  of 
the  guardians  of  the  peace,  who  was  guarding  the  pris- 
oners, while  the  other  one  was  ringing  for  the  police 
patrol,  and  the  diplomatic  Carty  handed  the  policeman 
two  cigars  from  a  box  he  kept  in  his  safe. 

Soon  Vignon,  Wilkins  and  Crunch  were  hurried  into 
the  police  patrol  automobile,  which  had  been  backed  up 
to  the  saloon  and,  amid  the  buzzing  of  the  curious  who 
had  gathered,  could  be  heard  various  bits  of  humorous 
advice  to  the  arrested  trio. 

Arrived  at  the  city  jail,  the  three  were  perfunctorily 
searched,  Vignon's  empty  revolver  holster  being  un- 
buckled and  deposited  to  his  credit  against  the  time 
when  he  might  emerge  from  durance  vile,  as  was  the 
case  with  the  small  amount  of  money  taken  from  Wilkins 
and  Crunch,  but  the  object  which  Vignon  had  slipped  un- 


306  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

seen  beneath  his  shirt,  while  still  in  the  patrol  auto,  went 
with  him  to  the  cell  in  which  he  was  sequestered. 

In  police  court  next  morning,  each  of  the  three  was 
fined  fifteen  dollars  with  the  alternative  of  serving  out 
the  decree  in  jail  at  the  rate  of  three  dollars  per  day, 
and  perforce  each  took  the  alternative. 

Crunch  thought  of  telephoning  to  Walton,  but  he  felt 
ashamed,  for  this  was  his  first  time  in  jail  and  so  he  de- 
cided not  to  let  the  newspaperman  know  of  his  predica- 
ment, preferring  to  take  his  medicine  like  a  man. 

During  the  ensuing  five  days,  Vignon  frequently  ex- 
pressed his  hatred  to  Crunch  who  occupied  the  adjoining 
cell  with  Wilkins  and  brooded  on  what,  to  his  distorted 
view,  appeared  as  rank  injustice.  -And  as  often  the  case 
with  such  a  one,  he  could  not  proceed  to  anything  like 
an  analytical  consideration  of  cause  and  effect,  of  per- 
sonal action  and  result,  but  only  could  jump  to  the  con- 
clusion that  some  one,  not  himself,  some  person  with 
malice  aforethought  and  diabolical  ingenuity  and  persis- 
tent and  revengeful  purpose  had  brought  him  to  what  he 
was — he,  the  man  whom  so  many  had  feared  and  of 
whom  he  had  been  by  way  of  being  a  leader.  He  to  have 
been  arrested  and  imprisoned  because  of  a  saloon  brawl ! 
And  who  could  that  one  be  who  thus  had  wanted  and 
plotted  and  accomplished  his  ruin  ?  Bradshaw !  So  ran 
his  distorted  thoughts.  That  by  some  Machiavelian 
means  Bradshaw  even  had  caused  such  devoted  admirers 
as  Wilkins  and  Snitch  to  fall  away  from  him,  Vignon 
felt  sure. 

Crunch  had  not  seen  Bradshaw  since  the  night  of  the 
League's  last  meeting,  but  in  recent  months  he  had  come 
to  know  from  Walton  that  it  was  Dan  who  supplied  much 
of  the  money  that  the  newspaperman  handed  over  to  him 
as  remittances.  So,  when  Vignon  in  the  next  cell  kept 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  307 

uttering  his  threats  against  Bradshaw,  Crunch  was  led 
to  believe  that  Vignon  knew  where  he  could  find  Dan, 
and  it  set  Crunch  to  thinking. 

Vignon,  Wilkins  and  Crunch  finished  serving  their 
sentences  on  an  afternoon. 

From  jail  Wilkins  went  at  once  to  Carty's. 

Vignon  stood  undecided  at  the  corner  of  the  alley 
leading  to  the  outside  door  of  the  jail  office,  and  there 
was  no  abatement  of  the  anger  that  was  burning  in  his 
mind,  that  was  so  fierce  that  it  seemed  almost  physically 
to  be  consuming  him. 

Crunch  was  standing  on  the  curb  not  far  away,  but 
unobserved  by  Vignon.  Watching  closely,  he  saw  Vig- 
non reach  inside  his  shirt,  half-withdraw  an  object 
at  which  he  glanced  quickly  and  replace  it. 

A  policeman  stepped  into  the  alley  from  the  jail  office 
and  Vignon  slouched  along  towards  the  heart  of  the  busi- 
ness district. 

Vignon  continued  his  slouching  way.  He  went  as 
would  have  one  of  the  "unclean"  of  olden  times,  as  if 
every  man  were  his  enemy  and  eyeing  him  with  direct 
suspicion. 

Not  far  ahead  loomed  the  newspaper  office  where  was 
Walton's  place  of  work. 

Crunch  followed  along  not  far  behind. 
***** 

Bradshaw,  his  heart  and  mind  full  of  his  talk  with 
Mary,  walked  the  distance  from  the  Norton  home  to 
Walton's  office. 

"Ho — back  from  your  private  business  affairs,  my 
hearty!"  exclaimed  the  newspaperman,  lolling  back  in 
his  chair.  "Sit  down  a  minute,  Daniel,  until  I've  fin- 
ished reading  some  of  this  proof,  and  then  I'm  yours." 

"And  now",  said  Walton  in  a  few  minutes,  "I  am  at 


308  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

your  services.  What  do  you  say  to  a  walk  over  to  the 
rooms  and  a  pleasant,  cool  rest  there  until  supper  time, 
and  then  a  ride  out  to  Columbia  Gardens?*' 

"Suits  me  just  right",  answered  Bradshaw.  "I've 
been  wanting  to  talk  to  you,  too,  about  that  new  book 
of  yours." 

"Haven't  been  thinking  so  much  of  it  lately",  Walton 
said.  "Truth  of  the  matter,  Dan,  is  that  I  want  to  have 
a  talk  over  at  the  rooms  with  you  regarding  a  proposi- 
tion that  has  come  to  me — well,  somewhat  indirectly  so 
far,  but,  in  fact,  I  heard  some  more  about  it  this  after- 
noon while  you  were  out.  It  has  to  do  with  an  appoint- 
ment to  a  governmental  position  of  real  importance. 
Seems  the  governor  has  the  recommending  of  it.  May 
have  some  international  phase — in  fact,  I  understand  it 
means  connection  with  a  commission  that  is  to  take  up 
some  important  work. 

"Great!"  exclaimed  Bradshaw.  "I  certainly  would 
regret  your  leaving  here,  John,  but  if  there  is  something 
of  that  importance  In  sight,  then  go,  and  my  blessings 
with  you." 

"But  I  haven't  been  offered  the  appointment  yet", 
said  Walton  with  a  laugh.  "It's  merely  a  vague  notion 
so  far,  rash  one — and  yet",  he  spoke  more  seriously,  "a 
chance  to  get  into  the  diplomatic  service  is  something 
I've  always  had  a  hankering  for,  and  this  kind  of  an 
appointment  might  pave  the  way  to  it  for  me." 

"Sure  thing",  agreed  Bradshaw.  "Get  yourself  ap- 
pointed in  time  to  some  sunny  little  island  in  the  South 
Seas,  which  is  like  a  summer  paradise  the  year  around. 
You  live  in  a  charming  bungalow  all  fixed  up  in  romantic 
style,  the  bungalow  not  you,  and  attired  in  spick  and 
span  white  suit,  you  not  the  bungalow,  and  with  an 
American  flag  over  the  door,  showing  you  are  the  Amer- 


309 


ican  consul.  Then  I  come  along  and  pester  you  with 
demands  that  you  send  messages  to  the  United  States 
for  me  and  listen  to  your  stories  of  adventure  and  ro- 
mance and  all  that  while  the  cerulean  sea  curls  lazily  up 
on  the  snow-white  sand,  or  whatever  kind  of  sea  it  is 
down  there  that  does  something  like  that — and  then  you 
show  me  the  new  novels  you  have  written  in  your  leisure 
moments  and" — 

"And  you",  interrupted  Walton  rising,  "are  running 
away  with  yourself.  You  are  indeed  a  man  of  vast  imag- 
ination, Daniel." 

"Have  to  be  these  days  to  get  anywhere",  remarked 

Bradshaw. 

*         *         *         *        * 

Vignon  looked  like  a  man  who  had  spent  five  days  in 
jail.  He  was  unkempt.  Bits  of  straw  from  his  bunk 
still  were  in  his  hair.  He  looked  as  evil  as  he  was,  and  he 
had  the  furtive  glance  of  one  who  mistrusts  his  fellow- 
men.  A  snarl  was  on  his  lips.  His  bloodshot  eyes  were 
hot  with  the  anger  burning  in  him.  He  hated  the  people. 
He  hated  the  city  which,  he  decided  in  his  peculiar  ego- 
tism, had  repudiated  him.  He  hated  the  signs  of  in- 
dustry and  prosperity  and  progress  he  saw  all  about 
him.  He  was  the  very  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  un- 
reasoning, maddened,  anarchistic  Direct  Actionism.  He 
was  galled  by  the  realization  that,  in  truth,  the  world  did 
not  want  him — the  inciter  to  riot,  the  preacher  of  dis- 
turbance, the  advocate  of  anarchism.  Five  years  before, 
he  had  been  a  strong  and  earnest  man,  a  first  class 
miner,  proud  of  that  and  proud  of  his  strength.  Time 
had  been,  too,  when  he  had  felt  a  little  pride  in  his  at- 
tire— that  was  when  he  was  a  strong,  well-balanced  man. 

He  looked  down  at  his  form.    What  rags  and  tatters 


310  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

covered  him!    The  very  taint  of  jail  atmosphere  was 
still  on  him! 

He  was  an  outcast — the  symbol  of  Hatred,  blind 
Fury,  destructive,  repelling  and  unworthy ;  repudiated  by 
Industry,  by  Progress  and  by  himself ! 

Vignon  let  his  hand  go  tremblingly  down  his  ragged 
coat  front  and  all  at  once  he  straightened  up  somewhat, 
as  he  touched  the  handle  of  the  bulldog  revolver  hidden 
in  his  shirt. 

***** 

Bradshaw  and  Walton  paused  to  read  the  bulletins  in 
front  of  the  newspaper  building,  and  then  went  on  their 
way  to  Walton's  rooms. 

When  they  were  near  the  arched  portal  of  the  apart- 
ment building,  a  slouching  figure  came  along,  keeping 
close  to  the  wall.  Neither  Bradshaw  nor  Walton  heeded 
it,  for  Crunch,  coming  directly  to  them  from  across  the 
street,  had  attracted  their  notice.  They  stopped  to 
watch  him,  but  he  was  not  then  looking  at  them — his 
gaze  was  directed  beyond  them  a  few  paces,  to  where 
Vignon  had  arrived  between  them  and  the  building's  en- 
trance. 

Vignon,  his  glowering  eyes  on  Bradshaw  as  if  fas- 
cinated and  yet  fearing  that  his  sight  of  Dan  was  but  an 
hallucination  of  his  fevered  brain,  drew  the  bulldog  re- 
volver from  its  hiding  place  and  pointed  it  at  the  man 
he  considered  the  worst  of  all  his  enemies. 

It  all  happened  so  quickly  that,  with  the  exception  of 
Crunch,  who,  in  a  way  had  been  prepared  for  it,  the  few 
others  near  at  hand  did  not  know  what  to  do  before  the 
drama  staged  by  Vignon  had  ended. 

Bradshaw,  noting  Crunch's  horrified  look  past  him, 
turned  to  see  Vignon  leveling  the  weapon  at  his  head, 
and  Vignon  pressed  the  trigger  the  very  instant  that 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  311 

Crunch  hurled  himself  forward,  just  managing  to  strike 
the  revolver  aside. 

Frenzied,  the  madman  turned  the  weapon  towards 
Crunch  and  shot  him  through  the  heart.  The  next  mo- 
ment, Vignon  fell  from  a  crushing  blow  on  the  head  de- 
livered by  the  club  of  a  quickly-arrived  policeman. 

Men  came  running  from  various  directions,  while 
women  drew  away  terror-stricken,  intent  on  the  fallen 
figures  of  Crunch  and  Vignon — all  but  Walton. 

Unnoticed  for  the  moment  even  by  Bradshaw,  who 
thought  the  newspaperman  beside  or  close  behind  him 
as  he  bent  over  Crunch,  Walton  sank  back  against  a  pil- 
lar of  the  portal,  wavering  unsteadily  and  looking 
straight  ahead  with  very  wide  and  very  surprised  eyes. 
He  was  ashen  white;  pressed  close  to  his  side  he  held  a 
hand,  a  thin,  crimson  stain  spreading  over  his  coat  from 
beneath  his  fingers. 

Then  Bradshaw  saw  what  had  happened  and,  para- 
lyzed for  only  the  interval  of  a  heart  beat,  he  sprang  to 
Walton  and  caught  him  in  his  arms  just  as  the  news- 
paperman collapsed. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
MARY 

Up  and  down  the  cement  floor  of  the  cool,  methodi- 
cally arranged  sub-dispensing  room,  Bradshaw  paced. 
Every  nerve  in  him  was  alive  with  its  keenest  tension. 
His  nervous  excitement  made  him  tremble  inwardly  un- 
til it  was  almost  exhausting. 

The  coming  to  the  hospital ;  the  hurried  arrangements 
that  had  followed — in  all  that  time  he  had  acted  with  a 
remarkable  coolness  and  certainty,  and  yet  now  the  affair 
and  its  det'ails  seemed  like  a  dream. 

In  the  operating  room,  on  the  other  side  of  the  bottle- 
lined  wall,  white-garbed  and  turbaned  hospital  surgeons 
were  working  over  Walton.  And  while  in  the  room 
there  was  a  quiet  that  was  like  a  holiness,  Bradshaw 
knew  that  many  had  come  crowding  to  the  main  entrance 
of  the  big  institution  and  that  members  of  Walton's 
newspaper  staff  had  penetrated  as  far  as  the  reception 
rooms.  Only  Bradshaw  had  been  permitted  to  accom- 
pany the  stretcher,  on  which  Walton  was  carried,  into 
the  inner  recesses  of  the  building  and  to  the  operating 
room. 

A  dark  stain  was  on  Bradshaw's  coat  and,  as  he 
passed  in  his  slow  pacing  close  to  a  window,  he  noticed 
it  for  the  first  time.  He  touched  it.  It  was  blood — Wal- 
ton's. He  stood  there  with  his  fingers  pressing  that 
damp  spot  and  through  his  mind  ran  many  thoughts  of 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  313 

what  had  happened — and  what  might  come.  He  had 
wanted  to  go  into  the  operating  room  with  the  alert, 
quick-stepping  and  calmly  businesslike  surgeons,  but  the 
chief  of  them  had  kindly  but  firmly  asked  him  not  to  do 
so.  But  before  the  final  half  of  the  double  doors,  that 
opened  from  corridor  to  operating  room,  had  been  closed, 
Bradshaw  had  glimpsed  a  motionless  figure  outstretched 
on  the  operating  table  and  the  pungent  odor  of  the  an- 
aesthetic had  come  to  him.  Then  that  half  of  the  doors 
had  been  closed  quickly  and  noiselessly,  shutting  off  the 
view,  but  the  smell  of  ether  remained  with  him,  almost 
sickeningly  sweet,  menacing  and  yet  fraught  with  prom- 
ise too. 

While  to  Bradshaw  it  seemed  that  hours  had  passed 
since  those  folding  doors  had  been  closed,  in  truth  it  had 
been  scarcely  half  an  hour — and  the  details  of  the  affair, 
most  of  them  exaggerated,  were  beginning  to  circulate 
through  the  city. 

Bradshaw  thought  of  that  last  glimpse  of  Vignon — 
Vignon  leveling  a  squat,  wicked-looking  revolver  at  his 
head,  and  his  eyes  venomous;  of  Crunch  springing  for- 
ward and  then  reeling  back  from  the  force  of  the  bullet 
that  pierced  him.  Why — Crunch  had  saved  his  life! 
Bradshaw  looked  out  through  the  window  with  unseeing 
eyes.  It  had  been  meant  that  he  should  be  where  Walton 
now  was !  He  pictured  in  his  mind  what  might  have  re- 
sulted had  the  bullet,  the  cause  of  Walton's  condition, 
gone  to  its  intended  mark  and  he,  Bradshaw,  was  the 
one  in  there  on  that  operating  table — or  on  the  long, 
white  marble  slab  at  some  morgue.  What  would  it  all 
have  meant  to  Her?  What  if  Walton  died — for  him — ? 

A  movement  at  the  door  made  him  turn,  for  he 
thought  one  of  the  gentle  Sisters  was  there.  But  he  was 
wrong.  Mary  Norton  stood  supporting  herself  against 


314  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

a  side  of  the  doorway  and  looking  at  him  with  wide, 
questioning  eyes.  The  Sister  who  had  conducted  her 
there,  already  was  moving  into  the  next  corridor. 

His  surprise  held  him  momentarily  mute  and  mo- 
tionless and  then  quickly  he  went  to  her  and  took  her  in 
his  arms  while  she  clung  to  him. 

"Dan — they  said  it  was  you — that  was  what  I  was 
told — and  I  came  as  fast  as  I  could — they  wouldn't  let 
me  come  up  here  at  first,  and  then  they  said  it  wasn't 
you,  but  I  made  them  let  me  come — they  just  had  to  let 
me  come  to  see  for  myself",  she  was  half  whispering  in 
the  quick,  appealing  way  of  a  woman  mortally  in  fear. 

The  thought  came  to  him  like  a  thrust  that  she  had 
come  overwrought  with  the  idea  that  he,  perhaps,  had 
been  fatally  hurt,  and  finding  him  well  and  strong  might 
have  made  her  mistake  her  true  feeling  for  him  in  that 
moment  of  reaction.  So  he  gently  took  his  arms  from 
about  her  as  if  to  put  her  from  him,  but  she  looked 
frankly  up  at  him  though  seemingly  a  little  bewildered 
as  might  a  child  have  been. 

"Why — why  Dan — was  I  wrong  in  coming  here? — 
Don't  you — ",  and  she  paused. 

He  was  looking  deep  down  into  her  wide  open  eyes 
that  were  like  bottomless,  Heaven-reflecting  pools.  Al- 
most fiercely  he  drew  her  close  to  him  again  and  bent 
his  head  and  kissed  her  as  a  man  kisses  a  woman  whose 
love  he  holds  and  to  whom  he  gives  a  love  that  sanctifies 
him.  Tears  came  involuntarily  to  the  eyes  of  this  strong 
man  and  he  felt  shamed  that  he  had  doubted  her  even 
for  a  moment  after  she  had  come  so  to  find  the  truth. 

"Dan",  she  whispered,  "a  Sister  brought  me  here  and 
she  must  be  out  there  in  the  corridor".  She  drew  gently 
away  from  him  to  see.  But  the  corridor  was  silent,  and 
empty — no  Sister  of  Charity  was  there.  Then  came  a 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  315 

stirring  about  in  the  operating  room  and  Bradshaw 
stepped  into  the  corridor  beside  the  girl. 

Holding  her  hand  firmly  in  his,  they  awaited  the 
opening  of  the  double  doors. 

Walton  did  not  die.  Nor  did  he  even  go  perilously 
near  the  brink  of  the  silently  flowing  river  in  the 
shadowy  valley.  The  bullet  had  been  deflected  by  a  rib 
and  had  buried  itself  in  the  flesh  under  his  right  arm, 
from  which  it  had  been  easily  extracted.  A  few  hours 
later,  when  he  had  come  from  under  the  influence  of  the 
anaesthetic,  he  told  Bradshaw  that  he  did  not  know  what 
had  made  him  the  more  sick — the  shock  of  the  bullet  or 
the  ether. 

"Also,  I  am  going  back  to  my  rooms  in  the  morning", 
he  declared,  a  decision  which  his  physician  promptly 
countermanded  with  the  statement  that  he  would  have 
to  remain  in  the  hospital  for  about  a  week.  And  that, 
the  newspaperman  was  inclined  to  resent,  for,  like  all 
strong  men,  he  had  that  boyish  impatience  when  it  came 
to  having,  perforce,  to  remain  in  bed  even  for  a  limited 
time  that  made  him  almost  peevish,  until  Bradshaw  in- 
formed him  of  the  new  happiness  that  had  come  to  him 
and  Mary  Norton,  whereupon  Walton,  with  genuine  de- 
light, averred  that  the  news  did  him  more  good  than 
could  all  the  medical  skill  in  the  world. 

"Bless  you,  my  boy,  bless  you!"  he  exclaimed  to 
Bradshaw.  "It  is  just  as  I  wanted  it  to  be.  You  cer- 
tainly don't  deserve  her — but  then,  no  man  half  deserves 
any  good  woman." 

Before  Walton  left  the  hospital  to  return  to  his  apart- 
ments, Bradshaw  spoke  to  him  of  Vignon  and  of  how 
Crunch  had  been  done  to  his  death. 

"I  gave  Crunch  decent  burial  and  if  he  left  any  rela- 


316  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

tives,  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  them.     Poor  Crunch — no 
more  Shakespeare  from  him." 

Another  week  and  Walton  was  able  to  be  present  at 
the  Norton  home  as  the  guest  of  honor  of  a  family  din- 
ner there.  It  was  in  truth  a  happy  gathering. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this  proposition  of  Dan  com- 
ing in  here  and  planning  to  take  my  greatest  treasure 
from  me  in  such  a  short  time  ?"  Norton  laughingly  asked 
Walton. 

"He's  always  been  a  rather  impetuous  and  certainly 
lucky  young  man",  rejoined  the  other. 

"Anyhow  it  all  comes  of  my  being  away  from  town", 
Norton  went  on  in  his  good-natured  way.  "All  I  had  to 
do  was  to  go  to  Anaconda  for  one  day  and  then  get  back 
at  night  to  find  you,  Walton,  had  tried  to  shuffle  off  this 
mortal  coil  and  frighten  your  friends  to  death  and  be 
informed  that  one,  Dan  Bradshaw,  had  usurped  the  place 
of  my  friend,  D.  Williams,  and  not  content  with  that  had 
appropriated  my  sister.  But  I  will  say  that  always  hav- 
ing had  a  real  liking  for  Dan  Bradshaw  and  also  for  D. 
Williams,  I  indeed  am  twice  as  fond  of  the  man  who  com- 
bines them  both." 

Before  he  left  that  evening,  Walton  heard  from  Mary 
that  she  had  written  the  details  of  his  injury  as  well  as 
her  other  important  news  to  Margaret  Hanlon,  sojourn- 
ing in  Hawaii,  who,  according  to  her  most  recent  letter 
to  Mary,  had  said  she  might  go  on  to  Japan. 

"I  should  have  an  answer  from  her  before  so  very 
long",  Mary  concluded  with  that  womanly  ability  to  say 
casually  that  which  was  of  important  concern  to  the  man 
listener  and  which  she  well  knew  would  bring  him  com- 
fort. 

Therefore,  when  Bradshaw  came  to  her  not  long  after 
•with  the  information  that  to  Walton  had  been  tendered 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  317 

the  appointment  as  a  member  of  the  governmental  com- 
mission of  which  she  knew,  and  he  exclaimed  that  he  did 
not  know  why  Walton  was  so  hesitant  about  accepting 
it,  Mary  smiled. 

"I  know  you  are  a  wonderful  man,  Dan  Bradshaw", 
she  said,  "but  there  are  some  things  no  mere  man  can 
quite  understand",  with  which  cryptic  statement  he  had 
to  be  satisfied  until  she  was  ready  to  explain  the  specific 
intent  of  her  words. 

That  explanation  did  not  come  until  a  week  later, 
after  Mary  had  received  a  letter  from  Margaret  corro- 
borating the  vague  rumor  Mary  had  heard  to  the  effect 
that  Margaret  had  been  wooed  and  won  by  Mr.  Arthur 
Eugene  Welling  of  New  York,  able  son  of  an  able  father 
and  owner  of  the  great  Welling  steel  works. 

Walton  was  standing  at  one  of  his  office  windows 
watching  the  forming  of  storm  clouds  when  Bradshaw 
came  to  see  him  the  afternoon  of  the  day  that  Mary  re- 
ceived Margaret's  letter,  to  tell  him  of  the  news  that  had 
come  from  Honolulu. 

Walton  remained  silent,  watching  the  brewing  storm, 
and  then  when  the  clouds  looked  the  darkest  there  came 
a  little  rift  in  them  and  a  long,  golden  pathway  of  sun- 
light streamed  through. 

Presently  the  newspaperman  turned  from  the  win- 
dow. 

"Dan,  I  am  trying  to  frame  up  a  telegram  accepting 
that  appointment",  he  remarked  in  his  quietest  way.  But 
Dan  did  not  fail  to  detect  in  the  other's  tone  the  fierce 
struggle  that  was  taking  place  in  Walton's  heart.  Still, 
he  knew  that  through  Walton's  mastery  of  himself,  he 
would  come  out  victorious. 

Late  that  night,  Bradshaw  went  to  Walton's  rooms 
and  found  the  newspaperman  comfortable  in  dressing 


318  BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE 

robe  seated  before  his  unlighted  grate,  with  all  lights  out 
but  the  glow  of  the  shaded  library  lamp,  smoking  his 
pipe. 

Occupying  his  accustomed  deep  chair  opposite  Wal- 
ton and  with  pipe  going,  fleecy  white  tobacco  clouds 
wreathing  above  them,  Bradshaw  gave  his  friend  that 
manner  of  sincere  sympathy  which  one  man  knows  how 
to  extend  to  another  without  the  formality  of  words. 

"One  more  month  and  you  will  be  a  Benedict  and  I 
will  be  on  my  way  east",  said  Walton,  and  paused  a  mo- 
ment. "Dan,  my  Lad,  it's  all  been  like  a  play — and  what 
a  wonderful,  what  a  virile  play !" 

"As  Crunch  might  have  paraphrased  it — It  indeed  is 
a  fact  that  we  live  to  find  the  world's  all  a  stage",  and 
Bradshaw  watched  the  smoke  curls  drifting  lazily  up- 
ward. "By  the  way,  John,  I  saw  the  superintendent  of 
the  prison  hospital  this  evening  and  he  told  me  of  Vig- 
non's  death." 

Neither  one  spoke  for  a  few  moments,  and  they 
puffed  at  their  pipes. 

"Some  great  talks  we've  had  in  this  place",  remarked 
Bradshaw. 

"Dan,  I  hate  to  think  of  giving  up  these  rooms",  said 
Walton.  "They  are  like  a  part  of  us.  And  when  you 
came  in  I  was  thinking,  too,  of  other  things  I  will  miss — 
There  is  that  view  from  the  veranda  of  'Mountain  View*. 
I'll  often  think  of  the  mountains  so  deep  blue  in  the  even- 
ing and  the  heavens  above  them  so  pink.  Somehow  that 
will  make  me  seem  there  with  you  again,  for  we  all  like 
your  mountains  in  the  same  way — we  who  know  them." 

"It  isn't  the  end  of  the  play,  John — not  at  all",  de- 
clared Bradshaw.  "Why — the  play  is  just  beginning." 
He  drew  meditatively  at  his  pipe  for  a  moment  and  when 
he  spoke  it  was  softly.  "But  Oh,  John,  my  friend,  what 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  319 

a  thrilling  and  a  wonderful  and  an  inspiring  prologue  it 
has  been." 

That  same  evening,  Norton  brought  home  startling 
news. 

Tharny  had  decamped.  Creditors  by  the  score  were 
left  mourning.  A  Federal  agent  was  going  over 
Tharny's  stock  promotions  for  within  the  past  few  days, 
Tharny  had  made  a  desperately  bold  effort  to  defraud  a 
broker  and  the  authorities  had  been  put  on  his  trail. 

"Good  riddance — though  the  scamp  should  be  in  the 
penitentiary,"  declared  Norton.     And  he  wondered  at 
the  warmth  with  which  his  sister  kissed  him. 
***** 

A  most  beautiful  day  of  all  Indian  Summer,  it  seemed 
to  Bradshaw,  as  he  sat  on  a  ledge  of  the  big  boulder  that 
made  a  throne  for  the  girl  at  his  side  and  a  little  above 
him.  And  while  she,  too,  saw  the  beauty  of  the  moun- 
tain scenery  before  and  below  them,  which  then  was  hold- 
ing his  gaze,  she  frequently  glanced  at  him  with  a  smile 
that  was  all  tenderness  and  pride,  and  a  mist 
of  happy  tears  came  before  her  eyes.  He  was  in  his 
mountain  costume,  his  blue  flannel  shirt  open  at  his 
strong,  bronzed  neck,  as  he  liked  best  to  have  it ;  his  hat 
on  the  turf  beside  him. 

For  many  miles,  the  valley  stretched  away  in  delight- 
ful panorama.  On  either  hand  the  mountains  swung  out 
in  semicircular  form.  High  up  on  the  ridges  were  heavy 
snow  banks,  but  below  the  snow-line,  the  charm  of  In- 
dian Summer  held  sway. 

Bradshaw  and  his  wife  had  ridden  to  this  favorite 
place  from  "Mountain  View",  while  DeWitt  Norton  had 
gone  to  the  lower  camp  to  inspect  with  Paddy  Skiff  and 
Jackson  the  great  new  hoisting  plant  there. 


320  BORN  OF  TH£  CRUCIBLE 

Norton,  Paddy,  Jackson  and  the  foreman  stepped  on 
the  cage  and  the  foreman  signaled  for  the  descent. 
Faster  and  faster  the  long  cable  played  out.  Suddenly 
the  cage  lurched.  There  came  a  whirring  noise  and  the 
cage  rocked  and  began  to  plunge  towards  the  sump. 

"My  God — the  bolt's  broke — we're  dropping!"  cried 
out  the  foreman. 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  there  came  an  intermittent 
grinding  noise,  a  quivering  of  the  cage  and  its  speed  be- 
gan to  be  checked.  It  slowed — there  was  no  cessation  of 
the  grinding  noise  now — and  then  the  cage  stopped. 

It  was  almost  opposite  the  big  doors  of  a  level  and 
Paddy  Skiff  hastily  opening  the  cage  doors,  rapped  on 
the  other  doors  until  they  were  unbarred  and  drawn 
back,  the  cage's  occupants  quickly  climbing  to  the  level. 

The  foreman  sank  down  on  a  timber  as  though  ex- 
hausted. Paddy  Skiff  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  fore- 
head, and  Jackson  spat  out  a  tooth  that  the  clinching  of 
his  jaws  had  broken. 

Norton  drew  a  very  deep  breath,  and  even  in  that 
light  the  men,  clustering  about  the  saved  ones,  could  see 
that  he  was  very  pale.  Then  Norton  smiled  a  little  and 
said  coolly,  "Bradshaw's  safety-clutch  works  fine — we'll 
all  say  that!" 

And  at  that  moment,  Bradshaw  was  looking  smilingly 
at  his  wife  as  he  lifted  himself  to  a  place  beside  her. 

"Look,  dearest",  he  said  pointing  to  the  mountains 
across  the  broad  valley. 

The  foothills  were  already  in  shadowy  indistinctness 
and  it  was  not  as  if  only  the  shade  of  coming  evening  had 
made  its  way  up  the  mountain  grades,  but  as  if  a  wide- 
spreading  brightness  had  risen,  ever  risen  out  of  the 
depths,  up  and  ever  up  to  the  great,  shining  ridges  on 


BORN  OF  THE  CRUCIBLE  321 

the  summit  that  now  was  bathed  in  golden  sunlight  and 
looked  marvelously  massive  and  strong  and  sure. 

The  mountain  man's  head  was  erect,  the  blood 
throbbed  through  his  veins  and  the  look  of  him  was  good 
and  wholesome.  While  the  great,  shining  summit  across 
the  valley  still  held  his  gaze,  he  placed  his  arm  tenderly 
about  the  waist  of  his  wife.  And  so  he,  too,  would  be 
— strong,  sure  and  brave  out  in  life's  sunlight — a  light 
the  more  glorious  because  of  her  sweet  companionship 
and  abiding  faith  in  him. 

THE  END 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000125191     7 


x-^     I 

f? 


